seemed to him the most likely source of
information. He dared not write asking her for this, for he was certain
her mail was still being scrutinized. The safest method would be to
call at the pawnshop in person; the police, and his old friends, and the
Ginger Bucks would expect anything else before they would expect him to
return to his grandmother's. Of course he must use all precautions.

Incidentally he was prompted to this method by his desire to see his
grandmother and Hunt. He had an idea or two which he had been mulling
over that concerned the artist.

He chose a night when a steady, blowing rain had driven all but
limousined and most necessitous traffic from the streets. The rain was
excuse for a long raincoat with high collar which buttoned under his
nose, and a cap which pulled down to his eyes, and an umbrella which
masked him from every direct glance. Thus abetted and equipped he came,
after a taxi ride and a walk, into his grandmother's street. It was as
seemingly deserted as on that tumultuous night when he had left it; and
on this occasion no figures sprang out of the cover of shadows, shooting
and cursing. He had calculated correctly and unmolested he gained the
pawnshop door, passed the solemn-eyed, incurious Isaac, and entered the
room behind.

His grandmother sat over her accounts at her desk in a corner among her
curios. Hunt, smoking a black pipe, was using his tireless right hand
in a rapid sketch of her: another of those swift, few-stroked, vivid
character notes which were about his studio by the hundreds. The
Duchess saw Larry first; and she greeted him in the same unsurprised,
emotionless manner as on the night he had come back from Sing Sing.

"Good-evening, Larry," said she.

"Good-evening, grandmother," he returned.

Hunt came to his feet, knocking over a chair in so doing, and gripped
Larry's hand. "Hello--here's our wandering boy to-night! How are you,
son?"

"First-rate, you old paint-slinger. And you?"

"Hitting all twelve cylinders and taking everything on high! But say,
listen, youngster: how about your copper friends and those gun-toting
schoolmates of yours?"

"Missed them so far."

"Better keep on missing 'em." Hunt regarded him intently for a moment,
then asked abruptly: "Never heard one way or another--but did you use
that telephone number I gave you?"

"Yes."

"Miss Sherwood take care of you?"

"Yes."

"Still there?"

"Yes."

Again Hunt was silent for a mom