myself. He saw it, dropped his head to one side and said, as smooth and sweet as molasses:
"What do they call you, little one?"
It was all I could do to keep from laughing, but I crumpled up my forehead into a scowl and looked cross at him:
"What my name is you'll never know and what yours is you needn't tell me for I've guessed. I've met members of your tribe before – it's large and prominent – the ancient and honorable order of jackasses."
He made me a low bow.
"So flattered at this speedy recognition," he says, airy and smiling. "You may know the tribe, but not the individual. Permit me to introduce myself – Anthony Ford."
I gave a start and turned it into a stretch. So this was the wonderful Tony Ford – a slick customer all right.
"That don't convey anything to my mind," I answered. "A rose by any other name still has its thorns."
"For more data – I'm the managing clerk of the Azalea Woods Estates, see seventeenth floor, first door to your left."
"Ain't I heard you were closed up there?"
"We are. This may be the last time you'll ever see me, so look well at me. Er – what did you say your name was?"
"One of the unemployed!" I said, falling back in my chair and rolling my eyes up at the ceiling. "Hangs round my switchboard and hasn't the price of a dinner in his jeans."
"I was too hasty," said he; "this isn't your first job."
"If your place is shut what are you doing here – not at this present moment, the actions of fools are an old story to me – but in the building?"
"Closing up the business. Did you think I was nosing round for an unlocked door or an open safe? Does this fresh, innocent countenance look like the mug of a burglar?" He grinned and thrusting a hand into his pocket rattled the loose silver there. "Hear that? Has a sound like a dinner, hasn't it?"
That made me mad – the vain fool thinking he could flirt with me as he had with Iola. I slanted a side look at him and his broad shining face with the eyes that didn't match it gave me a feeling like I longed to slap it good and hard. Gee, I'd have loved to feel my hand come whangup against one of those fat cheeks! But it's the curse of being a perfect lady that you can't hit when you feel like it – except with your tongue.
"I ain't known many burglars," I answered, "but now that I look at you it does come over me that you've a family resemblance to those few I've met. Seeing which I'll decline the honor of your invitation. Safety first."
That riled him. He flushed up and a surly look passed over his face making it ugly. Then he shrugged up his shoulders and leaned off the doorpost, giving a hitch to the front of his coat.
"I generally like a dash of tabasco in mine," says he, "but when it comes to the whole bottle spilled in the dish, it's too hot. Just make a note of that against our next meeting. I don't like being disappointed twice. Good evening."
And off he went, swaggering down the hall.
On the way home I wondered what Soapy'd say when I told him, but when he came in Tony Ford went straight out of my head for at last there was exciting news – Barker had been located in Philadelphia.
Two people had seen him there, one a man who knew him well, and saw him the night before in a taxi, the other an Italian who kept a newsstand. That same evening between eight and nine Barker had stopped at the stand and bought several New York papers. The Italian, who was quick-witted, recognized him from his pictures in the papers, and reported to the police.
"He's evidently only going out after dark," said Babbitts. "But a man can't hide for long whose picture's spread broadcast over the country."
"And who's got a face like the American Eagle after it's grown a white mustache," I answered.
That was Thursday night. Friday morning I toddled down to my job, feeling there wasn't much in it and that when I came home I'd hear Barker was landed and it would be domestic life again for little Molly.
The day went by quiet and uneventful as the others had been. I read a novel and sewed at a tray cloth, and now and then jacked in for a call. It was getting on for evening and I was thinking about home and dinner when – Bang! came two calls, one right after the other, that made me feel I was earning my money.
The first was at a quarter to five. Our central came sharp and clear:
"Hello, Gramercy 3503 – Long Distance – Philadelphia's calling you."
Philadelphia! Can you see me stiffening up, with my hand ready to raise the cam?
"All right – Gramercy 3503."
I could hear the girls in our central, the wait of hum and broken sounds – how well I knew it! – and then a distant voice, brisk and business-like, "Hello, Philadelphia – Waiting." Then a pause and presently the whispering jar of the wires, "Here's your party. Gramercy 3503, all right for Philadelphia."
Running over those miles and miles the voice – a man's – came clear as a bell.
"I want to speak to the Azalea Woods Estates."
I made the connection, softly lifted the cam, and listened in.
"Is this the office of the Azalea Woods Estates?"
A woman's voice answered, as close as if she was in the next room:
"Yes – who is it?"
"Is Mr. Anthony Ford there?"
"No, Mr. Ford has left my employment. I am Miss Whitehall, my business is closed."
There was a pause. My heart which had hit up a lively gait began to ease down. Only Tony Ford – Pshaw!
"Are you there?" said the woman.
"Yes," came the answer. "Could you give me his address?"
"Certainly. Hold the wire for a moment."
After a wait of a minute or two she was back with the address which she gave him. He repeated it carefully, thanked her and hung up.
Talk of false alarms! I was so disappointed thinking I'd got something for Mr. Whitney, that I sat crumpled up in my chair sulking, and right in the middle of my sulks came the second call.
It was Long Distance again – Toronto.
"I wonder what Toronto wants with her," I thought as I jacked in, and then, leaning my elbow on the desk listened, not much interested. Three sentences hadn't passed before I was as still as a graven image, all my life gone into my ears.
"Is that you, Carol?" I could just hear it, a fine little thread of sound as if it came from a ghost in the other world.
"Yes – who's speaking?"
"It's I – J. W. B."
Barker's initials! My heart gave a leap and then began to fox trot. If I had any doubts, her answer put an end to them. I could hear the gasp in her breath, the fright in her voice.
"You? What are you doing this for?"
"There's
