"Well, if he ain't havin' a late lunch, or playin' billiards, or watchin' the stock board, I give it up," says I. "Maybe you've noticed that Mr. Robert ain't been in many afternoons lately."
"Huh! Perhaps I haven't, though!" grunts Old Hickory. "But this time it is important that he should be here. Young man, you seem to have less wool on your wits than most of the office force; so I am going to confide to you that unless we find Robert before four-thirty o'clock this afternoon the Corrugated Trust Company will lose a lot of money."
"Oh, if it's a case of savin' the next dividend," says I, "I'll take another think. I expect you asked for him at the house?"
"He was there at one-fifteen and left twenty minutes later," says Mr. Ellins.
"Yes; but what kind of clothes was he wearin'?" says I.
"Clothes!" snorts out Old Hickory. "What the blithering——"
"Lemme ask his man," says I, grabbin' the desk 'phone. "Plaza—yes, Plaza, double O double three sixty-one. Sure! You got it. Say, Mr. Ellins, that butler of yours don't burn the carpet movin' fast, does he? He must——Hello! I want to talk to Walters. Ah, never mind who I am, switch him on!" And inside of two minutes I have the report. "Frock coat and silk lid," says I. "See? Society date."
"Huh!" says the old man. "That settles it. He's tagging around after that young lady violinist again. Might have guessed; for since she's come back from Paris he has taken about as much interest in business as a cat does in astronomy. But to-morrow morning we'll——"
"Say," I breaks in, "if it's a case of young lady, why not locate her and then scout for Mr. Robert in the neighborhood? That ought to be easy."
"Think so?" says he. "Well, young man, you have my permission to tackle the job. Her name is Inez Webster. I don't know where she lives, or with whom she's staying; but she's somewhere in New York. Now, how will you begin?"