drawers and looking behind doors, until he was absolutely familiar with everything in the place.
“Any light on the dark subject?” Glenn asked, as the detective reappeared.
“Not much so far—but a glimmer here and there. And I’m sure I have the right starting-point. Where’s the Chinaman?”
“In the pantry. Want him?”
“I’ll go there,” and Lane appeared before Charley.
He wasted no time on unimportant questions, but said, abruptly, “When have you heard from Mr. Locke?”
“No more hear. He gone good-by,” said the Chinaman.
“You are all paid up?”
“All and some more.”
“All bills paid?”
“All.”
“And on the first of the month you leave?”
“I leave.”
“And Mr. Locke told you over the telephone that you would never see or hear from him again?”
“Yes, he tell so.”
“All right, Charley, that’s all.”
Still with that satisfied expression on his face, Lorimer Lane started off to call on Miss Cutler.
He was by no means sure what course he should pursue with this somewhat remarkable young woman. From what he had heard of her, he didn’t think she could be easily intimidated—perhaps it would be wisest to treat her as a confidante.
But he had great faith in his own intuitions and concluded he would be guided by them when they should meet.
Pearl Jane met him as one might receive a casual caller, and Lane concluded at once that he must step carefully if he would make good with this self-possessed young person.
