"Maybe we could have a word with you, private-like." "Won’t you step in?" Presently they were all three seated in the living room, the big man continuing as spokesman. "Ah, now, about your brother, Miss Follett; you’re sure he isn’t anywheres around?" The inference from the tone was that somehow Jennie was secreting him. "He isn’t to my knowledge. He called up last evening to say that he wouldn’t be home to-day, and perhaps not to-morrow." The two men being seated within range of each other’s eyes, some new understanding was flashed silently. "Did he, then? And where would he have called up from?" "From Paterson." "From Paterson, was it? And what made you think it was from Paterson?" "He said so." "And that was all you had to go by?" "That was all." "Well, well, now! He said so, did he? And he didn’t come home last night?" Jennie shook her head. For a third time Flynn’s eyes telegraphed something to Jackman’s, and Jackman’s responded. What they said to each other Jennie didn’t try to surmise, for the reason that she was listening to a call. It was the call that Teddy had heard on the night when his father had brought home the news that he was "fired"—the call to assume responsibilities. Her father had gone; her mother was collapsing; Teddy had broken beneath the strain. "And now it’s up to me." Mentally, she spoke the words almost before she was conscious of the thought. "And that settles it." These words, too, she spoke mentally, but in them the reference was different. The vision of love and twenty-five thousand dollars, of bliss for herself and relief for the family, which had waxed and waned so often, now faded out forever behind a mass of storm-clouds. But of all this she gave no sign as she waited for the burly man to speak again. "And when your brother called up from Paterson—let us say it was Paterson—didn’t you ask him no questions at all?" "He didn’t speak to me. I wasn’t at home. It was to my little sister. I understood that he rang off before she could ask him anything." "Oh, he did, did he?" The telegraphy between the two men was renewed. "And didn’t he say nothin’ about what had tuck him to a place like Paterson?" "I think he said it was business." "’Business,’ was it? Ah, well, now! And what sort of business would that be?" "I don’t know." "And would you tell me now if you did know?" Jennie looked at him with clear, limpid eyes. "I’m not sure that I would. I don’t know what right you have to ask me questions as it is." "This right." Turning back the lapel of his coat, he displayed a badge. "We don’t want to frighten you, Miss Follett, my friend and me, we don’t; but if you know anything about the boy, it’ll be easier in the long run both for him and for you—" "What do you want him for?"