She went out of the office, not through the anteroom, but by a door that led direct into the corridor. There was a policeman there, and she spoke to him.
“Excuse me,” she said, “but could you tell me how I’ll find Miss Camford?”
“She’s went,” he answered. “The newspaper fellers was after her, and Mr. Getty, he took her somewheres in his car.”
“Well…” said Maggie. “Can I get a bus back to the boathouse?”
“You could,” he said judicially. “Only the buses don’t run more’n once every forty-five minutes and there’s a long walk after you get out. If I was you, sister, I’d get me a taxi and I’d charge it up to the expense account.”
He liked her. He thought she was pretty. You could tell.
“Thank you,” she said, and rang for the elevator.
“It’s nice weather,” said the policeman.
“Yes, it’s l
