He looked at me with his eyes as big as half-dollars and then began to laugh. "Well, what do you make of that? Spending your holiday and your nickels rounding up a lot of men that rounded themselves up weeks ago." "I want to get that voice." "But everyone of them have proved that voice couldn’t be theirs." "Maybe they did," said I, "but I want to know it myself." "Listen to her," he said, looking round the table as if a crowd was collected, "calmly brushing aside the police, the detectives, the might of the law and the strong arm of the press." "And anything else that stands round trying to discourage me." "Far be it from me to discourage you in any eccentricity that may develop. But there’s no need in following up Cokesbury, for we know that he was marooned in Cokesbury Lodge." "I don’t care what we know. The only things I believe are the things I see myself." "Thomas!" he said, laughing, and I didn’t see any sense in his calling me that, but he often said things I wasn’t on to. "Do you intend to camp on his trail all night?" "I do," I answered. "As soon as you get through lapping up that red ink I’m going to go to the nearest pay station and ring up Edward L., residence." "I’ll toddle along," he said. "Anything goes with me that adds to the entertainment of Mary McKenna Morganthau." He held up his glass as if he was drinking a toast, and something about the look of him—I don’t know what—made me get all embarrassed. It never happened before and it took me so by surprise I blushed and was glad I’d dropped my gloves on the floor so I could bend down and hide how red my face was. I tried Edward L., residence, at a drug store on Broadway and again I drew that butler gink, who was sort of sassy and hung up quick. Then we walked along and I could see that Babbitts was getting interested. "Tell you what," he said, "that servant knows you. I’ll make the connection, say I want to see Cokesbury on business, and if I get him, hand on the receiver to you." We fixed it that way, went into a hotel, and I stood at the door of the booth while Babbitts got the house. Standing at his elbow I could see he was up against the same proposition as I had been. He finally had to say he wanted to see Mr. Cokesbury about renting Cokesbury Lodge. He turned to me with his hand over the mouthpiece and said: "He’s there and he won’t come." "Has the servant gone to get him?" "Yes. He wouldn’t say whether his boss was home or not, but his willingness to take the message gave him away. Now stand close and if it’s a new voice I won’t say a word, just get up and let you slide into my place." He started and turned back to the instrument. "Yes. What?" I could see a look of surprise come over his face. "Soon? You don’t know—in a few days. Hasn’t any idea of renting. Thanks. That’s all—good-bye." He hung up and turned to me: "It was the servant. Cokesbury hasn’t any intention of renting and is leaving for Europe." "For Europe!" I cried out. "_When?_"