Wait a couple of weeks."
"But they're going to publish it?"
"Surest thing you know. They've wired me to know who you are and what
and why."
"Why what?"
"Oh, I dunno. Why a fellow who can do that sort of thing hasn't done it
before or doesn't do it some more, I suppose. If you should ever want a
job in the newspaper game, that story would be pretty much enough to get
it for you."
"I wouldn't mind getting a little local correspondence to do," announced
Banneker modestly.
"So you intimated before. Well, I can give you some practice right now.
I'm on a blind trail that goes up in the air somewhere around here. Do
you remember, we compared lists on the wreck?"
"Yes."
"Have you got any addition to your list since?"
"No," replied Banneker. "Have you?" he added.
"Not by name. But the tip is that there was a prominent New York society
girl, one of the Four Hundred lot, on the train, and that she's
vanished."
"All the bodies were accounted for," said the agent.
"They don't think she's dead. They think she's run away."
"Run away?" repeated Banneker with an impassive face.
"Whether the man was with her on the train or whether she was to join
him on the coast isn't known. That's the worst of these society tips,"
pursued the reporter discontentedly.
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