"So it seems," says the clerk, and steps back to continue his chat with the snub-nosed young lady at the 'phone exchange.
How was that for an early mornin' bump? What was the idea, anyway? Rupert had found a prospective backer, hadn't he? And was bein' taken care of. What more could he ask? Unless—unless someone else had got next to him. But who could have heard of this—
"Gee!" I groans. "I wonder?"
I couldn't stand there starin' foolish across the register and do the wonderin' act all day, though. Besides, I wanted to follow a clew. It ain't a very likely one, but it's better'n nothing. So I slides out and boards a Columbus Avenue surface car, and inside of twenty minutes I'm at Auntie's apartments, interviewin' Helma, her original bonehead maid.
No, Miss Verona wasn't at home. She'd gone for her morning ride in the park. Also Auntie was out.
"So early as this?" says I. "When did Auntie get away?"
"Before breakfast yet," says Helma. "She telephone long time, then a gentlemans coom, and she go out."
"Not a gent with pale hair and plenty of freckles on his face?" I asks.
Helma gazes thoughtless at the ceilin' a minute.
"Yah," says she. "Den have funny face, all—all rusty."