After several inquiries over the telephone, I found that since his
wife had been in Montrose Cranston had closed his apartment and
was living at one of his clubs. Having two or three friends who
were members, I did not hesitate to drop around.

Unfortunately, none of my friends happened to be there, and I was
forced, finally, to ask for Cranston himself, although all that I
really wanted to know was whether he was there or not. One of the
clerks told me that he had been in, but had left in a taxicab only
a short time before.

As there was a cab-stand outside the club, I determined to make an
inquiry and perhaps discover the driver who had had him. The
starter knew him, and when I said that it was very important
business on which I wanted to see him he motioned to a driver who
had just pulled up.

A chance for another fare and a generous tip were all that was
necessary to induce him to drive me to the Trocadero, a
fashionable restaurant and cabaret, where he had taken Cranston a
short time before. It was crowded when I entered, and, avoiding
the headwaiter, I stood by the door a few minutes and looked over
the brilliant and gay throng. Finally, I managed to catch a
glimpse of Cranston's head at a table in a far corner. As I made
my way down the line of tables, I was genuinely amazed to see that
he was with a woman. It was Julia Giles!

She must have come down on the next train after we did, but, at
any rate, it looked as though she had lost no time in seeking out