Forget it all, and walk right up and ask her!"
"Larry, if I thought there was a chance that you are right--"
"A single question will prove whether I'm right!"
Hunt did not speak for a moment. "I guess I've never seen my part of
it all in the way you put it, Larry." He stood up, his whole being
subdued yet tense. "I'm going to slide back into town and think it all
over."
Larry followed him an hour later, bent on routine business of the
Sherwood estate. Toward seven o'clock he was studying the present
decrepitude and future possibilities of a row of Sherwood apartment
houses on the West Side, when, as he came out of one building and
started into another, a firm hand fell upon his shoulder and a voice
remarked:
"So, Larry, you're in New York?"
Larry whirled about. For the moment he felt all the life go out of
him. Beside him stood Detective Casey, whom he had last seen on the
night of his wild flight when Casey had feigned a knockout in order to
aid Larry's escape from Gavegan. Any other man affiliated with his
enemies Larry would have struck down and tried to break away from. But
not Casey.
"Hello, Casey. Well, I suppose you're going to invite me to go along
with you?"
"Where were you going?"
"Into this house."
"Then I'll invite myself to go along with you.
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