Fay leaned until his eyes compelled hers to waver. “It’s true,” he whispered. “Now, tell me what happened to Putney Stephney? The matter is going to do the Gray Brotherhood and the Gray Taxi Company considerable harm.” “Do with him?” “Certainly! What did you do with him? The truth, and nothing but the truth. It’s bound to come out!” “See here!” The girl braced her shoulders and stared back defiantly. “See here!” she flashed with sudden anger. “I can give you no information except--” “Except what?” “The record of the call. That is all that I will ever give you or anybody else. My personal affairs are not to be dragged about by an amateur investigator.” “That’s all I want.” Fay turned and motioned for Rake to leave the office. He waited until the door closed with a click. “We’re going to be frank,” he said. “I’m here to help you out. You met Stephney at the dock, after waiting around for hours. I’d judge by this action that you knew him. He perhaps wirelessed or telegraphed you from Quarantine.” The girl brushed her hair from her eyes with the back of her right hand. She stared at the rug, then into Fay’s keen face. “I met him by his own appointment.” “Ah! Now we’re getting on, Miss Elsie. You met him--after waiting a long time. He had an enormous sum of money. You alone knew that he was coming. He trusted in you so as to be safe in a city comparatively strange--to him. He--” “Trusted me--yes! We stopped at Figaro’s on Forty-second Street. We had a club sandwich served to us. I sat outside with him because I--I had these clothes on.” The girl swept her hands over her leggins and short skirt. “And then?” “Why, I took him on uptown within six or seven blocks of the Rockingham. He said he would walk the rest of the way. I left him on the curb. He started north.” “That’s clear,” said Fay. “He started north. Did you see him any more?” The girl dropped her eyes and studied the design of the office rug. “I did and I didn’t. He got in another cab--I think!” “What?” “Yes. There was no reason for him to do that. He had only a few blocks to go in order to reach the hotel.” “What kind of a cab?” “One of ours--a Gray taxi.” “Well, don’t you know who was driving it? Was it following you?” * * * * * A puzzled pucker gathered in a little square upon the girl’s white forehead. She reached to the littered desk and lifted a call-sheet. She held this out with shaking fingers. “I’ve questioned every one of my drivers. No one of them admits taking Mr. Stephney or anyone else to the Rockingham. I didn’t understand it last night; I don’t now. It was certainly a taxi painted like ours that he got in. I thought it so strange.” “Did this other driver call him?” “I don’t know. I was turning when I looked up the Avenue. Putney was running from the curb with one hand raised. He jumped on the running-board of the taxi, which disappeared from under an arclight. I didn’t see anything more.”