a few minutes before a train full of commuters returning to New York for their day’s work. And when he looked from the bow of the ferry at the sky-line of the city, he found it quite as he had pictured it, except that it showed no excited appreciation of the change that had come, over night, to the status of the Baxter case.
His interview with Babbing was the only event that did not work out as he had expected. Babbing was walking up and down his private office, thoughtfully, when Barney entered to see him. He asked, at once, “Where have you been?” but without looking at Barney, and without stopping in his walk.
Barney closed the door. “I been searchin’ fer this Elizabeth Baxter—an’ I found her.”
Babbing continued with his thoughts. It was some time before he asked, almost absent-mindedly, “Where?”
“Out near a place called Findellen, livin’ with some folks she knows.”
“What took you out there?”
