"Nothin' startlin' in the mornin' run, eh?" I throws out.
"Oh, yes," says he. "Mallory reports that those St. Louis people have applied for another injunction. Ring up Bates, will you, and have him call a general council of our legal staff for two-thirty?"
"Right," says I. "Er—anything else, Mr. Robert?"
He simply shakes his head and dives into another letter. At that, though, I was lookin' for him to sound me out sooner or later on the picture business; but the forenoon breezes by without a word. By lunchtime I'm more twisted than ever. Had he glanced at the halftone without recognizin' her? Or was he just keepin' mum? Not until I gets a chance to explore the waste basket did I get any line. The folder wa'n't there. Neither was it on his desk. And all the hints I threw out durin' the day he don't seem to notice at all. So I didn't have much to tell Vee over the 'phone that night.
"Couldn't get a rise out of him at all," says I.
"But you're certain Miss Hampton is the one, are you?" says she.
"If she wa'n't," says I, "why should he keep the folder?"
"That's so," says Vee. "Then—then shall we do it?"
"I'm game if you are," says I.
"All right," says she, and I hears one of them ripplin' laughs of hers comin' over the wire. "It's to-morrow at half after three, you know."