right people, dull people.
There was a young boy here last summer. Him I do not know, but you and
your daughter I do know about. I've checked--"

"How dare you check--?"

"I damn well dare check anything and anybody I happen to be personally
interested in," he stormed. "As a potential bed partner I wouldn't give a
hoot who you were or what you were. But before I go to the point of
dividing the rest of my life on an exclusive contract, I have the right
to know what I'm splitting it with."

"You have no right--"

"Balderdash! I have as much right as anybody to look at the record. I
grant you the same right to look up my family and my friends and the
status of my bank account and my credit rating and my service record.
Grant it? Hell, I couldn't stop you. Now, what's going on? Where is your
daughter and where is that little boy? And where--if he exists--is this
Charles Maxwell?"

* * * * *

James had heard enough. No matter which way this was going, it would end
up wrong. He was proud of Mrs. Bagley's loyalty, but he knew that it was
an increasing strain and could very well lead to complications that could
not be explained away without the whole truth. He decided that the only
thing to do was to put in his own oar and relieve Mrs. Bagley.

He walked in, yawning. He stood between them, facing Tim Fisher. Behind
him, Mrs. Bagley cried, "Now see--you've awakened him!"

In a dry-throated voice, Tim said, "I thought he was away at school. Now,
what's the story?"

"It isn't her story to tell," said James. "It's mine."

"Now see here--"

"Mr. Fisher, you can't learn anything by talking incessantly."

Tim Fisher took a step forward, his face dark, his intention to shake the
truth out of somebody. James held up a hand. "Sit down a moment and
listen," he ordered.

The sight of James and the words that this child was uttering stopped Tim
Fisher. Puzzled, he nodded dumbly, found a chair, and sat on the front
edge of it, poised.

"The whereabouts of Mr. Maxwell is his own business and none of yours.
Your criticism is unfounded and your suspicions unworthy. But since you
take the attitude that this is some of your business, we don't mind
telling you that Mr. Maxwell is in New York on business."

Tim Fisher eyed the youngster. "I thought you were away at school," he
repeated.

"I heard you the first time," said James. "Obviously, I am not. Why I am
not is Mr. Maxwell's business, not you