“That they ’d took him away ’cause he had a sore t’roat.”
Babbing took off his glasses, surprised. “Why did you remember that? Because it was a boy?”
Barney grinned. “I ’ve had sore t’roats. They never took me up the Hudson.”
“I see. Envy, eh? Well, why do you suppose Harper said his son was sick when he was n’t—and said nothing about his wife, when she was?”
Barney was silent.
Babbing returned to the papers on his desk. “I ’ll show you before this time, to-morrow. Run along, now. I ’ll not need you on this case again till Harper comes.”
Barney went out as importantly as if he had been appointed consulting expert to the head of the Babbing Bureau. Almost immediately afterward, he was sent with an older operative to help “tail” a valet who was suspected of stealing from his employer; and he forgot Harper and the anonymous letters in the ex-
