en, joost one little
meenit."

"Certainly, Katie," I replied, rising, while Dicky mumbled a
half-laughing, half-serious protest.

"I'll be back in a minute, Dicky," I promised, lightly.

It was full five before I returned, for Jim had something to tell me,
which confirmed my impression that the mysterious stranger's spying
upon me was something to be reckoned with.

"I didn't think I ought to worry you with this, Mrs. Graham, but Katie
thinks you ought to know it, and what she says goes, you know." He
cast a fatuous smile at the girl, who giggled joyously. "To-night,
down at Crest Haven, I overheard one of the taxi drivers telling
another about a guy that had come down there and described a woman
whom he said must have gotten off at Crest Haven and taken a taxi back
to Marvin. The description fitted you all right, and the driver gave
him your name and address. He said he got a five spot for doing it."

My face was white, my hands cold, as I listened to Jim, but I
controlled myself, and said, quietly:

"Thank you, Jim, very much for telling me, but I do not think it
amounts to anything."

XXXII

"THE DEAREST FRIEND I EVER HAD"

Dinner with Dicky in a public dining room is almost always a delight
to me. He has the rare art of knowing how to order a perfect dinner,
and when he is in a good humor he is most entertaining. He knows by
sight or by personal acquaintance almost every celebrity of the
city, and his comments on them have an uncommon fascination for me
because of the monotony of my life before I met Dicky.

But the very expression of my mother-in-law's back as I followed her
through the glittering grill room of the Sydenham told me that our
chances for having a pleasant evening were slender indeed.

"Well, mother, what do you want to eat?" Dicky began genially, when an
obsequious waiter had seated us and put the menu cards before us.

"Please do not consider me in the least," my mother-in-law said with
her most Christian-martyr-like expression. "Whatever you and Margaret
wish will do very well for me."

Dicky turned from his mother with a little impatient shrug.

"What about you, Madge?" he asked.

"Chicken a la Maryland in a chafing dish and a combination salad with
that anchovy and sherry dressing you make so deliciously," I replied
promptly. "The rest of the dinner I'll leave to you."

My mother-in-law glared at me.

"It strikes me there isn't much left to leave to him after an orde