The door of the limousine was jerked open almost before the car
came to a full stop in front of the McIntyre residence, and Colonel
McIntyre offered his hand to help Mrs. Brewster out. On the step
she turned to Kent, who had lifted his hat to McIntyre in silent
greeting.
"Your forte lies as a romancer rather than a lawyer, Mr. Kent," she
said, and not giving him time for a reply, almost ran inside the
house.
"Glad you could get here so soon, Kent," remarked McIntyre, signing
to his chauffeur to drive on before he led the way into the house.
"Grimes has worked himself almost into a fever asking for you."
"Grimes?"
"Yes. Grimes was attacked in our library early this morning by
some unknown person, and is in bed with a bad wound on his temple
and a tendency to hysteria," McIntyre explained.
"Come upstairs."
Kent handed his cane and hat to the footman and followed Colonel
McIntyre, who stalked ahead without another word. As they mounted
the stairs Kent glanced at the folded paper which he still held,
and was surprised to see that it was a check.
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