proved by his teacher. “Yes, sir,” he promised.
“Well, we ’ll see.” Babbing was non-committal and unenthusiastic. “You 've a lot to learn, yet.”
Barney asked, shyly: “What ’s he been doin’?”
“Who?”
“Mr. Cooper.”
Babbing turned back to the bedroom. “That ’s my business, not yours. You do what you ’re told—in my office—and don’t ask questions. And don’t discuss cases. That ’s another thing to learn. . . . Come in,” he called to Corcoran’s knock.
The operative came in, taking a telegraph envelope from his pocket. He gave it to Babbing, cheerfully silent. The detective put on his glasses and scrutinized it. He took out the telegram and read it. He compared the “time received” with his watch. “That looks convincing,” he said. He moistened a finger tip and delicately wetted the gummed flap.
