"Don't ask embarrassing questions, Meakim," he said. "It was one
_you_ won't forget in a hurry."
"Oh!" said Meakim, with a grin. "All right. There's some mail for you
in the office."
"Thank you," said Holcombe.
* * * * *
A few hours later Carroll was watching the roulette wheel in the
gambling-hall of the Isabella when he saw Meakim come in out of the
darkness, and stand staring in the doorway, blinking at the lights and
mopping his face. He had been running, and was visibly excited.
Carroll crossed over to him and pushed him out into the quiet of the
terrace. "What is it?" he asked.
"Have you seen Holcombe?" Meakim demanded in reply.
"Not since this afternoon. Why?"
Meakim breathed heavily, and fanned himself with his hat. "Well, he's
after Winthrop Allen, that's all," he panted. "And when he finds him
there's going to be a muss. The boy's gone crazy. He's not safe."
"Why? What do you mean? What's Allen done to him?"
"Nothing to him, but to a friend of his. He got a letter to-night in
the mail that came with Allen. It was from his sister. She wrote him
all the latest news about Allen, and give him fits for robbing an old
lady who's been kind to her. She wanted that Holcombe should come
right back and see what could be done about it. She didn't know, of
course, that Allen was coming here. The old lady kept a private school
on Fifth Avenue, and Allen had charge of her savings."
"What is her name?" Carroll asked.
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