CHAPTER XVI
ELEVEN TWENTY-TWO AGAIN
BURTON’S idea of exploiting Miss Jane’s disappearance began to bear fruit the next morning. I went to the office early, anxious to get my more pressing business out of the way, to have the afternoon with Burton to inspect the warehouse. At nine o’clock came a call from the morgue.
“Small woman, well dressed, gray hair?” I repeated. “I think I’ll go up and see. Where was the body found?”
“In the river at Monica Station,” was the reply. “There is a scar diagonally across the cheek to the corner of the mouth.”
“A fresh injury?”
“No, an old scar.”
With a breath of relief I said it was not the person we were seeking and tried to get down to work again. But Burton’s prophecy had been right. Miss Jane had been seen in a hundred different places: one p
