"Then, this is what we do," Dibdin rubbed his forehead as over a problem
in chess. "We see a private detective agency here and acquaint them
with the facts. Have them pick up Pendleton on the way--he hasn't
reached Chicago yet, you know--and see if he's traveling alone. If he
is, let him go on his way. If not--then, a description of the girl--you
understand--"
A livid fury possessed me suddenly as I saw the all too vivid picture
that Dibdin had evoked and was now trying to believe.
"No, no!" I cried. "I am going myself. I dare not--I cannot trust
anybody else to do this. You don't know--you can't understand--"
"I know only too damned well," growled Dibdin staring at me quizzically.
"But I am trying to show you sense--difficult, I admit, to one in your
condition. However, I must try again," he went on with the patience of
resignation.
"You are only one man--don't you see? A detective agency is an
organization of many men in different places who can concentrate on the
same job simultaneously. At this minute they would know on which train
he might be traveling and some one or several could already be watching
for his arrival. Suppose they miss him. There are many hotels in
Chicago--there are many trains leaving for the coast--don't you see?"
"Yes," I breathed brokenly. "Then it's useless."
"Far from it," he laughed. "Come with me."
Less than an hour later we were at the Mahoney Detective Agency and a
suave young Irishman was listening without emotion or eagerness to my
story supplemented by Dibdin's interpolations. He seemed to care little
for what concerned me most, but he was keen for personal details of
Pendleton's appearance, height, build, clothes, lettering on his luggage
and so on.
When it came to giving a detailed description of Alicia, my confusion
was so pitiful that even the young detective glanced at me only once and
then, like the gentleman he was, looked sedulously down upon the paper
before him.
"Sixteen--in her seventeenth year!" he murmured in astonishment.
"But she is an unusual girl--well grown for her age," I caught him up.
"I see," he murmured gravely. "What's the color of her hair?"