disapproved of this from the beginning, simply because there had been a woman in it. Adventures centering about women never do go off according to schedule. There is always something uncomfortable in them. “Female women, blast ’em!” he muttered again, and continued pondering upon the present whereabouts of Valentine Morley.
Eddie knew that there was just one kind of a mes¬ sage that could call Valentine Morley out at any time during the night—a message from Jessica Pomeroy— a good looking girl with trouble and sudden death in her eyes, he reflected. He dressed and, slipping an automatic into his side pocket, went out to interview the night man concerning any visitors with a message that his master might have had after he, Eddie, had retired.
