“Sure I remember. You’re the one that passed out the candy.”
“Right. Attention, please. I want to speak to Miss Helen Frost privately, but I don’t want to make any more fuss in there. Has she gone to lunch yet?”
“No. She doesn’t go until one’ o’clock.”
“Is she inside?”
“Sure.” He glanced at his watch. “She won’t go for nearly half an hour.”
“Okay.” I nodded thanks and moseyed off. I had a notion to hunt up some oats for a gobble, but decided it would be better to stick around. I lit a cigarette and strolled to the corner of Fifth Avenue, and across the street, and back toward Madison a ways. Apparently the public was still interested in the place where the beautiful model was poisoned, for I noticed people slowing up and looking at the McNair entrance as they passed by, and now and then some stopped. The mounted cop was hanging around. I went on sauntering in the neighborhood, not getting far away.
At five minutes after one she came out, alone, and headed east. I tripped along, and crossed the street, and got behind her. A little before she got to Madison I snapped out:
“Miss Frost!”
She whirled on a dime. I took off my hat.
“Remember me? My name’s Archie Goodwin. I’d like to have a few words—”