"I have the honor to
wish you a very good-morning." The telephone rang off sharply.
I fancy that the same thought was in both our minds: Could this be
the same woman whom we had seen selling her kisses at an East Side
bazaar? The very thought was incredible. And remember that we had
not heard her voice before. Yet neither of us doubted, even for a
moment.
"After all, it was only the one kiss that was actually sold and
delivered," said Indiman, half-defiantly. But he need not have
defended her to me.
It was getting to be a very pretty problem as it stood, the one
obvious probability being that it was the girl herself who stood in
danger. What could we do? To discover the nature of the impending
peril and, above all, the personnel of the conspirators. And then
what? How were we to communicate with or warn the girl?--for, of
course, she had called up Indiman from a public pay-station,
leaving no clew to her identity or address. Well, there was still
the Personal column in the HERALD; it had reached her once and
might again.
"I am going down-town to the main office of the Western Union,"
said Indiman, "and may be away all day. If I shouldn't return by
dinner-time, you will carry out the instructions in the message.
Exactly, remember--car No.
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