"Oh!" says she. "I—I am so sorry."
"Lost, is she?" suggests Mr. Ellins, weakenin'.
"She is somewhere in New York," goes on Mrs. Parker Smith. "Of course, I know it is an imposition to trouble you with such a matter. But I thought you might have someone in your office who—who——"
"We have," says he. "Torchy,—er—I mean, Lieutenant,—Mrs. Parker Smith. Here, madam, is a young man who will find your niece for you at once. In private life he is my secretary; and as it happens that just now he is on special detail, his services are entirely at your disposal."
She looks a little doubtful about bein' shunted like that, but she follows me into the next room, where I produces a pencil and pad and calls for details businesslike.
"Let's see," says I. "What's the full description? Age?"
"Why," says she, hesitatin', "Claire is about twenty-two."
"Oh!" says I. "Got beyond the flapper stage, then. Height—tall or short?"
Mrs. Parker Smith shakes her head.
"I'm sure I don't know," says she. "You see, Claire is not an own niece. She—well, she is a daughter of my first husband's second wife's step-sister."