“I didn’t say that.”
“But I did. It’s true, isn’t it?”
“Well—yes—it is. And I must say I think she’s asking a good deal of me—”
“She? Then Grace Lane was brought to you by a woman?”
“What? Oh—oh, yes. Of course. I’ll admit that.”
“You have admitted it,” chuckled Barry Kirk.
“Tell me this,” Miss Morrow went on, “before you left to come down here, did you let Mrs. Tupper-Brock know where you were going?”
“I did.”
“Did you tell her you expected to be questioned by me when you got here?”
“Y-yes.”
“And was it then that she asked you not to reveal the fact that she was the person who brought Grace Lane to you, with a request that you help the girl?” Mrs. Kirk was silent. “You needn’t answer,” Miss Morrow smiled. “As a matter of fact, you have answered. Your face, you know.”
Mrs. Kirk shrugged. “You’re a clever young woman,” she complained.
“Since that is settled, and I now know that it was Mrs. Tupper-Brock who introduced the Lane girl to you,” Miss Morrow continued, “there is no real reason why you shouldn’t give me the details. How long ago did it happen?”
Mrs. Kirk hesitated, and then surrendered. “Several months ago,” she said. “Helen brought the girl to the house. She told me she had met her on a ferry—that they were old friends—had known each other in Devonshire, a great many years back.”
“In Devonshire. Please go on.”
“Helen said this girl had been through a lot—”
“What?”
“I didn’t ask. I have some delicacy. Also, that she was destitute and in desperate need of work. She was such a pretty, modest, feminine little thing, I took an immediate fancy to her. So I got her the job in this building.”
“Without consulting me,” Kirk suggested.
“Why should I? It was a matter requiring instant action. You were off somewhere as usual.”
“And that’s all you know about Grace Lane?” inquired Miss Morrow.
“Yes. I made inquiries, and found she was doing well and was, apparently, happy. When we came up here the other night, we spoke to her. She thanked me, very nicely. I’m sorry she’s been hounded out of town.”
Miss Morrow smiled. “One thing more. Have you noticed any signs of a close friendship between Mrs. Tupper-Brock and Colonel Beetham?”
“I believe they’ve gone out together occasionally. I don’t spy on them.”
“Naturally not. I think that is all, Mrs. Kirk.”
Mrs. Kirk stood up. She appeared to be in a rather chastened mood. “Thanks. Fortunately, I can still get to my lecture on time.”
“Just one point,” added the girl. “I’d rather you didn’t repeat this conversation to Mrs. Tupper-Brock.”
“Me—I won’t repeat it to anybody.” The old lady smiled grimly. “Somehow I don’t seem to have come out of it as well as I expected.” She said goodbye and made a hasty exit.
“Bully for you,” cried Kirk, with an admiring look at Miss Morrow.
She stood, frowning. “What did I tell you this morning? Mrs. Tupper-Brock was lying, but I didn’t expect confirmation so soon.”
“Going to have her on the carpet again?” Kirk asked.
“I am not. What’s the good of more lies? Grace Lane was an old friend—which may mean that Grace Lane will write to Mrs. Tupper-Brock from wherever she is hiding. I am going to make immediate arrangements with the postal authorities. Mrs. Tupper-Brock’s mail will reach her through my office from now on.”
“Excellent,” approved Chan. “You have wise head on pretty shoulders. What an unexpected combination! May I inquire, what is our good friend Flannery doing?”
“The Captain has taken a sudden fancy to Miss Lila Barr. I believe he has ordered her to his office at five this afternoon, for what he calls a grilling. I can’t be there, but if I were you, I’d drop in on it.”
Chan shrugged. “I fear I will look in vain for welcome inscribed in glowing characters on the mat. However, I will appear with offhand air.”
Miss Morrow turned to Barry Kirk. “I do hope your grandmother won’t hold my inquisition against me.”
“Nonsense. You were splendid, and she’s crazy about you. I saw it in her eyes when she went out.”
“I didn’t,” smiled the girl.
“You didn’t look carefully. That’s where you make a mistake. Examine the eyes about you. You’ll find a lot more approval than you suspect.”
“Really? I’m afraid I’m too busy—I must leave that sort of thing to the old-fashioned girls. Now, I must run along. There’s just a chance I can find Grace Lane for Captain Flannery. Someone must.”
“And it might as well be you,” quoted Kirk. “I’ll hope to see you again soon.” He showed her out.
At four thirty Charlie Chan strolled to the Hall of Justice and walked in on Captain Flannery. The Captain appeared to be in rare good humor.
“How are you, Sergeant,” he said. “What’s new with you?”
“With me, everything has aged look,” Chan replied.
“Not getting on as fast as you expected, are you?” Flannery inquired. “Well, this should be a lesson to you. Every frog ought to stick to his own pond. You may be a world-beater in a village like Honolulu, but you’re on the big time over here. You’re in over your depth.”
“How true,” Charlie agreed. “I am often dismayed, but I think of you and know you will not permit me to drown. Something has happened to elevate your spirit?”
“It sure has. I’ve just pulled off a neat little stunt. You see, I had a grand idea. I put an ad in the morning paper for those velvet slippers—”
“Ah, yes,” Chan grinned. “Inspector Duff warned me you were about to be hit by that idea.”
“Oh, he did, did he? Well, I’m not taking orders from Duff. I was on the point of doing it some days ago, but it slipped my mind. Duff recalled it to me, that’s all. I put a very cagy advertisement in the paper, and—”
“Results are already apparent?” Chan finished.
“Are they? I’ll say so.” Flannery took up something wrapped in a soiled newspaper. The string
