“I don’t quite know what to do,” I said unhappily, as we came out through the plate-glass-and-bronze doors of the Curtis Building. “I hate to go back to Mrs. Whitney’s, but I guess I ought to.”
I might as well have been talking to the double row of stone columns. Colonel Primrose was so deep in his own concerns that mine were less than negligible. He was more profoundly disturbed than I’d ever seen him, and it gave me an increasingly uneasy feeling in the pit of my stomach. I’d got so used to having complete confidence in him that it frightened me a little, seeing him lose it in himself.
“I hope to God I’m not making a mistake,” he said, with so much sincerity that my uneasiness quickened to alarm. He looked back at the Curtis Building.
“You don’t really think it might be somebody there
