The sallow man waited for some time. Then he said: "Excuse me, Mr. Smith-Parvis, but I've got a friend over here. Stranger in New York. I'm detailed to entertain him."
"You've got to shake him," said Stuyvie, arrogantly. "I want you to follow her home, and I'm going with you. As soon as I know positively where she lives, I'll decide on the next step we're to take. We'll have to work out some plan to get her away from that dress-makin' 'stablishment."
The other gave him a hard look. "Don't count our people in on any rough stuff," he said levelly. "We don't go in for that sort of thing."
Stuyvie winked. "We'll talk about that when the time comes."
"Well, what I said goes. We're the oldest and most reliable agency in—"
"I know all that," said Stuyvie, peevishly. "It is immaterial to me whether your agency or some other one does the job. Remember that, will you? I want that girl, and I don't give a—"
"Good night, Mr. Smith-Parvis."
"Wait a minute,—wait a minute. Now, listen. When you see her getting ready to leave this place, rush out and get a taxi. I'll join you outside, and we'll—"
"Very well. That's part of my job, I suppose. I will have to explain to my friend. He will understand." He lowered his voice to almost a whisper. "He's in the same business. Special from Scotland Yard. My God, what bulldogs these Britishers are. He's been clear around the world, lookin' for a young English swell who lit out a couple oi years ago. We've been
