ey
were put on different floors. Going toward the elevators, Braceway said:
"Unless something unexpected turns up, let's have breakfast at eight."
"And then, what?"
"Go to the Anderson National Bank. A man named Beale, Joseph Beale, is
its president. We'll have to persuade him to have the records examined,
to see how Morley stands. If he's wrong, short, the rest will be easy."
"Very good. Did your man pick him up at the train?"
"Oh, yes. Platt's always on the job. He and his partner, Delaney,
generally deliver."
"Who are they?" Bristow asked, interested. "How do they happen to be
working for you?"
"They belong to a private bureau here, Golson's. Golson and I have worked
together before."
In the elevator Bristow was thinking that the matter of becoming a
professional detective was not as simple as it had appeared to him. The
work required colleagues, assistants, "shadowers," and reciprocal
arrangements with bureaus in other cities. It was like any other
profitable business, complicated, demanding constant attention.
When they met at breakfast, Braceway had already received Platt's report.
"Nothing developed last night," he told Bristow. "Platt followed Morley,
who went straight to his home. He and his mother live in a little house
far out on R Street northwest. Morley took the street car and was home by
a little after half-past eleven. The lights were all out by a quarter
past twelve. This morning at six-thirty, when Delaney relieved Platt, our
man hadn't left the house."
"What's your guess about today?"
"Either he'll go to the bank on time this morning, to throw off
suspicion," said Braceway, "or, if he mailed the jewelry to himself here
the night of the murder, he'll try to pawn them in Baltimore or at a
pawnshop in Virginia, just across the river. There are no pawnshops in
Washington. There's a law that interferes."
"Delaney won't lose him?"
"Not a chance."
During the meal he saw that Bristow was completely worn out. As a matter
of fact, he looked actually sick.
"See here," Braceway said as they were ready to leave the table; "you
look all in, done out."
Bristow did not deny it.
"I didn't sleep very well last night. It was close in my room, and this
morning the humidity's oppressive. You know what that does to us of the
T. B. tribe."
"Suppose you get some more rest. It's going to be a sweltering day."
"Oh, I can stand it. I want to go with you. I'm not going to feel any
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