“Certainly some little situation for Mary Regan!” Uncle George looked at Clifford with his shrewd old lashless eyes. “But, son, I hope your motor’s not missing fire over her--and her a married woman?” “I’m concerned because I’m certain Loveman is planning to use her. I can protect her better, and I stand a better chance to land Loveman, if I know where she is.” “H’m. And is that the three-mile limit of your interest?” “I’m human enough to want to know what she’s done and how she’s planned to meet the future. Knowing that will help me against Loveman.” “Well, son, be sure you’re not passing phony money off on yourself--which is what the average citizen does when he thinks he has one of these here righteous thoughts. I suppose you’ve got me fitted into some nice little idea?” “You’re going to help me meet her.” “Oh, that’s all, is it!” the old man said dryly. “All I’ve got to do is to step out on Broadway, touch her on the sleeve, and say, ‘Good-afternoon, Mary; Bob Clifford wants to one-step with you to a bit of nice chin-music’--and in she’ll come wearing a smile on all four sides, you being so popular with her!” “All you’ve got to do, Uncle George, is something else. Jack likes you; Mary considers you one of her best friends. You go into that telephone booth, call up Jack at his father’s office, and learn where she is--and after you’ve learned that we’ll dope out the rest.” “I didn’t think that in my old age I’d sink to be a stool for a copper,” sighed Uncle George, with mock mournfulness. He heaved his big body up and crossed to a booth. Five minutes later he swayed back to Clifford’s side. “I got a line on her. But it’s up to me to do some of this here super-delicate detective work. Sit where you are--though it’s an awful risk to leave you alone and unprotected right over a wine cellar. I may be back in an hour. So-long.” He was back in half an hour. “She’s having tea over at the Ritz. Come on. I got a taxi waiting outside.” He led the way out and across the sidewalk, bulking large before Clifford. “May God pity an old sinner for what’ll be comin’ to him for this!” he murmured. At the door of the taxi he stepped aside. “Get in first,” he said to Clifford; and, as Clifford obeyed, he smartly closed the door on Clifford’s back. “All right,” he called to the chauffeur. As the taxi moved away, a startled voice within the car exclaimed: “You!” Clifford then saw that he was sitting beside Mary. “Miss Regan!” he ejaculated, forgetting her new name. “Uncle George told me we were to pick up Jack.” “I hope you’ll forgive the deception. Don’t blame Uncle George. Blame me.” “What does this mean?” she demanded. “I felt I had to see you at once.” “Why?” “You see, I could hardly help wanting to know what you had done.” He had thought it more than likely that she would be angry. Her dark eyes did flash at him; but when she spoke she spoke very calmly.