"This gentleman desires to speak to you a moment, Miss McIntyre,"
he said, and indicated a young man in a sack suit standing just back
of him.
"I'm Parker of the Post," the reporter introduced himself with a bow
which included Clymer. "May I sit down?" laying his hand on the back
of Mrs. Brewster's vacant chair.
"Surely; and won't you have an ice?" Barbara's hospitable instincts
were aroused. "Here, waiter -"
"No, thanks; I haven't time," protested Parker, slipping into the
chair. "I just came from your house, Miss McIntyre; the butler said
I might find you here, and as it was rather important, I took the
liberty of introducing myself. We plan to run a story, featuring
the dangers of masquerading in society, and of course it hinges on
the death of Mr. Turnbull. I'm sorry" - he apologized as he saw
Barbara wince. "I realize the topic is one to make you feel badly;
but I promise to ask only few questions." His smile was very
engaging and Barbara's resentment receded somewhat.
"What are they?" she asked.
"Did you recognize Mr.
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