The detective watched him go up in the elevator, and then he turned back to the cigar stand in the lobby and purchased more of the black cigars he loved. For a time he stood out at the curb, puffing and thinking. He watched the building entrance closely, but George Lerton did not come down again. As a matter of fact, Farland scarcely had expected that he would. He believed that Lerton had kept an appointment with Kate Gilbert, and then had continued to his office to take up the work of the day. Farland decided that he would give Lerton a chance to attend to the morning mail and pressing matters of business, before seeking an interview. Finally, Farland threw the stub of the cigar away, turned into the entrance of the building once more, and walked briskly to the elevator. He shot up to the tenth floor, went down the hall, and entered the reception room of the Lerton offices. An imp of an office boy took in his card. "Mr. Lerton will see you in ten minutes, sir," the returning boy announced. Farland touched match to another cigar. He was a little surprised that Lerton had sent out that message. Lerton knew Farland, as Sidney Prale had known him in the old days. He knew Farland's business, and he knew that the detective and Prale were firm friends. He could guess that Prale had engaged Jim Farland to work on this case and clear him of the charge of having murdered Rufus Shepley. After a time the boy ushered him into the private office. George Lerton was sitting behind a gigantic mahogany desk, looking very much the prosperous man of business. "Well, Farland, this is a pleasure!" Lerton exclaimed. "Haven't seen you for ages. How's business?" "It could be better," Jim Farland replied, "and it could be a lot worse. I'm making a good living, and so have no kick coming." "If I ever need a man in your line, I'll call you in," George Lerton said. "And the pay will be all right, too." "Don't doubt it," Farland replied. "Want to see me about something special this morning?" "Yes, if you can give me a few minutes." "All the time you like," Lerton replied. That was not like the man, Jim Farland knew. Lerton was the sort to try to make himself important, the always-busy man who had no time for anybody less than a millionaire. Farland smiled and sat down in a chair at one end of the desk. He twisted his hat in his hands, looked across at George Lerton, cleared his throat, and spoke. "You know about Sidney Prale being in a bit of trouble, of course?" "Yes. Can't understand it," Lerton replied, frowning. "Sidney always had a temper, of course, but I never thought he would resort to murder during a fit of it. You know, I never got along with him any too well. He had a quarrel with his sweetheart in the old days and left for Honduras twenty-four hours later and remained there for ten years." "I know all about that, of course," Farland said. "You perhaps have guessed that he sent for me--engaged me to get him out of this little scrape."