The Greatest Works of Earl Derr Biggers (Illustrated Edition). Earl Derr Biggers

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      "Oh, I'm going to get a lot of fun out of Charlie," he answered. "He's a good scout, and I like him. But, by way of confession, I had other reasons for inviting him here. You and he are going to work together, and that means—what?"

      "It means, I hope, that I'm going to learn a lot."

      "From associating with Chan?"

      "Precisely."

      "And if you associate with my guest, you'll be bound to stumble over me occasionally. I'm a wise lad. I saw it coming."

      "I don't understand. Why should you want me to stumble over you?"

      "Because every time you do I'll leap up and look at you, and that will be another red-letter day in my life."

      She shook her head. "I'm afraid you're terribly frivolous. If I see much of you, you'll drag me down and down until I lose my job."

      "Look on the other side, lady," he pleaded. "You might drag me up and up. It could be done, you know."

      "I doubt it," she told him.

      Chan came into the room, and Paradise, unperturbed by the impromptu guests, served a noble luncheon. Toward its close, Kirk spoke seriously.

      "I've been thinking about this Barr girl downstairs," he said. "I don't know that I've told you the circumstances under which Sir Frederic came to stay with me. His son happens to be an acquaintance of mine—not a friend, I know him only slightly—and he wrote me his father was to be in San Francisco. I called on Sir Frederic at his hotel. From the start he appeared keenly interested in the Kirk Building. I couldn't quite figure it out. He asked me a lot of questions, and when he learned that I lived on the roof, I must say he practically invited himself to stop with me. Not that I wasn't delighted to have him, you understand—but somehow there was an undercurrent in the talk—well, I just sensed his eagerness. It was odd, wasn't it?"

      "Very," said the girl.

      "Well, after he'd been here a couple of days he began to ask questions about the Calcutta Importers, and finally these all seemed to center on Miss Lila Barr. I knew nothing about the firm or about Miss Barr—I'd never even heard of her. Later he found that my secretary, Kinsey, knew the girl, and the questions were all turned in that direction—though I fancied they grew more discreet. One day in the office I heard Kinsey ask Sir Frederic if he'd like to meet Miss Barr, and I also heard Sir Frederic's answer."

      "What did he say?" Miss Morrow inquired.

      "He said simply, 'Later, perhaps,' with what I thought an assumed carelessness. I don't know whether all this is important or not?"

      "In view of the fact that Miss Lila Barr once left Sir Frederic's presence in tears, I should say it is very important," Miss Morrow returned. "Don't you agree, Mr. Chan?"

      Chan nodded. "Miss Barr has fiercely interesting sound," he agreed. "I long with deep fervor to hear you question her."

      The girl rose from the table. "I'll call the office of the Calcutta Importers and ask her to step up here," she announced, and went to the telephone.

      Five minutes later Miss Lila Barr entered the living-room under the impeccable chaperonage of Paradise. She stood for a second regarding the three people who awaited her. They noted that she was an extremely pretty girl slightly under middle height, an authentic blonde, with a sort of startled innocence in her blue eyes.

      "Thank you for coming." The deputy district attorney rose and smiled at the girl in kindly fashion. "I am Miss Morrow, and this is Mr. Charles Chan. And Mr. Barry Kirk."

      "How do you do," said the girl, in a low voice.

      "I wanted to talk with you—I'm from the district attorney's office," Miss Morrow added.

      The girl stared at her, an even more startled expression in her eyes. "Ye-es," she said uncertainly.

      "Sit down, please." Kirk drew up a chair.

      "You know, of course, of the murder that took place on your floor of the building last night?" Miss Morrow went on.

      "Of course," replied the girl, her voice barely audible.

      "You were working last night in your office?"

      "Yes—it's the first of the month, you know. I always have extra work at this time."

      "At what hour did you leave the building?"

      "I think it was about ten fifteen. I'm not sure. But I went away without knowing anything of—of this—terrible affair."

      "Yes. Did you see any strangers about the building last night?"

      "No one. No one at all." Her voice was suddenly louder.

      "Tell me"—Miss Morrow looked at her keenly—"had you ever met Sir Frederic Bruce?"

      "No—I had never met him."

      "You had never met him. Please think what you are saying. You didn't meet him night before last—when you visited him in his office?"

      The girl started. "Oh—I saw him then, of course. I thought you meant— had I been introduced to him."

      "Then you did go into his office night before last?"

      "I went into Mr. Kirk's office. There was a big man, with a mustache, sitting in the second room. I presume it was Sir Frederic Bruce."

      "You presume?"

      "Well—of course I know now it was. I saw his picture in this morning's paper."

      "He was alone in the office when you went in?"

      "Yes."

      "Was he the person you went there to see?"

      "No, he was not."

      "When you left the office, you burst into tears." Again the girl started, and her face flushed. "Was it seeing Sir Frederic made you do that?"

      "Oh, no," cried Miss Barr, with more spirit.

      "Then what was it made you cry?"

      "It was—a purely personal matter. Surely I needn't go into it?"

      "I'm afraid you must," Miss Morrow told her. "This is a serious affair, you know."

      The girl hesitated. "Well—I—"

      "Tell me all that happened night before last."

      "Well—it wasn't seeing Sir Frederic made me cry," the girl began. "It was—not seeing some one else."

      "Not seeing some one else? Please explain that."

      "Very well." The girl moved impulsively toward Miss Morrow. "I can tell you. I'm sure you will understand. Mr. Kinsey, Mr. Kirk's secretary, and I—we are—well—sort of engaged. Every night Mr. Kinsey waits for me, and we have dinner. Then he takes me home. Day before yesterday we had a little quarrel—just over some silly thing—you know how it is—"

      "I can imagine," said Miss Morrow solemnly.

      "It was about nothing, really. I waited a long time that evening, and he didn't come for me. So I thought maybe I had been in the wrong. I swallowed my pride and went to look for him. I opened the door of Mr. Kirk's office and went in. Of course I thought Mr. Kinsey would be there. Sir Frederic was alone in the office—Mr. Kinsey had gone. I muttered some apology—Sir Frederic didn't say anything, he just looked at me. I hurried out again and—perhaps you know the feeling, Miss Morrow—"

      "You burst into tears, because Mr. Kinsey hadn't waited?"

      "I'm afraid I did. It was silly of me, wasn't it?"

      "Well, that doesn't matter." Miss Morrow was silent for a moment. "The company you work for—it imports from India, I believe?"

      "Yes—silk and cotton, mostly."

      "Have you ever been in India, Miss Barr?"

      The girl hesitated. "When I was quite young—I lived there for some years—with my mother and


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