I let that go, and went at once to the object of our visit. Yes,
he remembered the governess, knew her, as a matter of fact. The
Wellses' bought a good many things there. Asked as to her
telephoning, he thought it was about nine o'clock, maybe earlier.
But questioned as to what she had telephoned about, he drew himself
up.

"Oh, see here," he said. "I can't very well tell you that, can I?
This business has got ethics, all sorts of ethics."

He enlarged on that. The secrets of the city, he maintained loftily,
were in the hands of the pharmacies. It was a trust that they kept.
"Every trouble from dope to drink, and then some," he boasted.

When I told him that Arthur Wells was dead his jaw dropped, but
there was no more argument in him. He knew very well the number the
governess had called.

"She's done it several times," he said. "I'll be frank with you. I
got curious after the third evening, and called it myself. You know
the trick. I found out it was the Ellingham, house, up State Street."

"What was the nature of the conversations?"

"Oh, she was very careful. It's an open phone and any one could
hear her. Once she said somebody was not to come. Another time
she just said, 'This is Suzanne Gautier. 9:30, please.'"

"And tonight?"