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Updated: May 5, 2025
She has black hair, while Miss Ballister's hair is a golden red-brown. So far, you see, the vague description furnished by the three men who spoke to the mythical Mrs. Williams might apply to either." "Then which of the two is supposed to have been most attracted to Geltmann, as you call him?" Mullinix smiled a trifle. "I was rather expecting that question would come along about here," he said.
So far as our purposes are concerned, it began to happen on an afternoon at the end of the month of March of this present year, when J. J. Mullinix, of the Secret Service, called on Miss Mildred Smith, the well-known interior decorator, in her studio apartments on the top floor of one of the best-looking apartment houses in town.
She was wearing tailor-mades, with a trig hat to match, when she opened the door of her entry hall for Mullinix. "Just going out, weren't you?" he asked as they shook hands. "No, just coming in," she said. "I had only just come in when the hall man called me up saying you were downstairs." "I had trouble getting him to send up my name at all," he said with a half smile on his face.
The doorman could not make up his mind offhand whether Mullinix was to be classified as a well-dressed mendicant or an indifferently dressed book agent; he was pretty sure, though, that the stranger fell somewhere within the general ban touching on dubious persons having dubious intentions.
"Did you hear anywhere any mention made of a daughter the red-haired child of twelve years ago?" inquired Miss Smith. "To be sure I did, but I'd forgotten about her," said Mullinix. "Mrs. Sheehan told me that somewhere in her excited narrative Mrs. Vinsolving did say something about the daughter. As nearly as I can recall, she told Mrs.
When fifteen minutes later the perplexed Mullinix halted a taxi at the Deansworth Studio Building she was at the curbing, her left arm in a sling and her eyes ablaze with barely controlled emotions. Before he could move to get out and help her in she was already in. "Bellevue Hospital, psychopathic ward," he told the driver as she climbed nimbly inside.
It was not the train she would have chosen had the choosing been left altogether to her, but Mullinix of the Secret Service, her unofficial chief, had called her away from a furnishing and finishing contract at a millionaire's mansion in the country back of Dobb's Ferry to run up state to Troy, where there had arisen a situation which in the opinion of the espionage squad a woman was best fitted to handle, provided only that woman be Miss Mildred Smith.
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