“Well, he’s entirely different from them, isn’t he?” “But you wouldn’t want him to be like them, would you?” Miss Baron shook her head slowly. “No, _I_ wouldn’t....” “I’ll tell you how he strikes me,” said Bonnie May. “If he came on the stage, the audience would think it was the business manager, come to make an announcement. You know the business manager is the man who has the money--sometimes; who pays the hotel bills and finds out about train-time, and sees that your baggage is there ahead of you when you get to the end of a trip. He’s the real man with the show. These fellas that look like fashion-plates are all right as far as they go. But you know once in a while the walking gets bad, and then the wise guys are the ones that stand in with the business manager.” She went away, nodding with emphasis, and left Miss Baron to complete her toilet. Beyond this brief interchange of words not a word about Mr. Addis had been spoken when Baron, immediately after breakfast, went away in response to a telephone call from a newspaper office. The Sunday editor had an idea for a special article and, as it turned out, Baron was employed down-town all day. There was a “story” about an exhibit in one of the art-galleries to write, and this he had done with one of those intervals of ardor which characterized him. He had also called on Thornburg. He wanted to know how the mysterious quest of Bonnie May was progressing, and if the manager had learned anything as a result of his response to the advertisement in the _Times._ But Thornburg had no information for him. He had replied to the advertisement according to his promise, he said, but he had received no response. He admitted quite frankly that he had permitted two days to pass before doing this. He had been unusually busy. But he had attended to the matter as soon as he had been able to find time--and nothing had come of it. However, as Baron was leaving the manager’s office, Thornburg called him back. “By the way,” he said, “it is possible Mrs. Thornburg may have something interesting to tell you. I just happened to remember that she asked me to invite you up to the house when I saw you. I believe she mentioned Bonnie May. Suppose you drop around as soon as it’s convenient.” On his way home that afternoon, Baron thought of the manager’s message and his manner, and again he became suspicious. He couldn’t help believing that Thornburg knew more than he admitted. But then, he concluded, perhaps he was only innocently plotting to get possession of the child for whom there now appeared to be no lawful claimant. When he reached home his mother was the first person he encountered, and he surmised by her manner that this circumstance was a result of her own design and management. “Anything wrong, mother?” he asked. He had visions of kidnappers watching the house from hidden points of vantage.