Recently,
when she had drawn her income for half a year in advance and still
asked for more, I was obliged to refuse."

"And then?" says I.

Mrs. Parker Smith shrugs her shoulders.

"The foolish girl chose to quarrel with me," says she. "About ten days
ago she sent me a curt note. I could keep her money; she was tired of
being dictated to. I needn't write any more, for she had moved to
another address, had changed her name."

"Huh!" says I. "That does make it complicated. You don't know what she
looks like, or what name she flags under, and I'm to find her in little
New York?"

But I finds myself tacklin this hopeless puzzle from every angle I could
think of. I tried 'phonin' to Claire's old street number. Nothin' doin'.
They didn't know anything about Miss Hunt.

"What brand of art was she monkeyin' with?" I asks.

Mrs. Parker Smith couldn't say. Claire hadn't been very chatty in her
letters. Chiefly she had demanded checks.

"But in one she did mention," says the lady in gray, "that---- Now, what
was it! Oh, yes! Something about 'landing a cover.' What could that
mean?"

"Cover?" says I. "Why, for a magazine, maybe. That's it. And if we only
knew what name she'd sign, we might---- Would she stick to the Claire
part? I'll bet she would. Wait. I'll get a bunch of back numbers from
the arcade news-stand and we'll go through 'em."

We'd hunted through an armful, though, before we runs across this freaky
sketch of a purple nymph, with bright yellow hair, bouncin' across a
stretch of dark blue lawn.

"Claire Lamar!" says I. "Would that be---- Eh? What's wrong?"

Mrs. Parker Smith seems to be gettin' a jolt of some kind, but she
steadies herself and almost gets back her smile.

"I--I am sure it would," says she. "It's very odd, though."

"Oh, I don't know," says I. "Listens kind of arty--Claire Lamar. Lemme
see. This snappy fifteen-center has editorial offices on Fourth Avenue
and---- Well, well! Barry Frost, ad. manager! Say, if I can get him on
the wire----"

Just by luck, I did. Would he pry some facts for me out of the art
editor, facts about a certain party? Sure he would. And inside of ten
minutes, without leavin' the Corrugated General Offices, I had a full
description of Claire, includin' where she hung out.

"Huh!" says I. "Greenwich Village, eh? You might know."

"My dear Lieutenant," says Mrs. Parker Smith, "I think you are perfectly
wonderful."

"Swell thought!" says I. "But you needn't l