"Am I the guy?" says I.
"You are," says he. "And minutes may count. I'll get the address for you. It's in that——"
"Say," I throws over my shoulder on my way to the door, "whose aunt is this, anyway?"
Looked like a simple matter for me to locate Aunty. And if she was out takin' her drive or anything—why, I could be explainin' to Vee while I waited. That would be tough luck, of course; but I could stand it for once.
At their apartment hotel I finds nobody home but Celeste, the maid, all dolled up like Thursday afternoon. She hands it to me cold and haughty that Madame and Ma'mselle are out.
"I could almost guess that from the lid you're wearin'," says I. "One of Miss Vee's, ain't it?"
She pinks up and goes gaspy at that. "Please," she begins pleadin', "if you would not mention——"
"I might forget to," I breaks in, "if you'll tell me where I can find 'em quickest."
And Celeste gets the information out rapid. They're house-partyin' at the Morley Beckhams, over at Quehassett, Long Island. "Rosemere" is the name of the joint.
"Me for Quehassett!" says I, dashin' for the elevator.