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"Quite sure, sir." Mr. Lee spoke in that quiet,
final way that usually closed matters in his of-
fice. Betty heard his chair pushed back and
knew that he had risen. "Here's your hat,
what's your hurry?" she quoted in a school-girl
fashion to her mother in a low whisper. They
sat quietly till the final good afternoon was said
and her father closed the front screen door.
Then Betty jumped up and ran into the front
room to meet him.

"Oh, Father, you _told_ him! And I know he's
the 'villain!'"

Mr. Lee grinned, much as Dick was accus-
tomed to do, and approached his daughter with
his fists closed and the favorite gestures of
small boys about to engage in a fisticuff. That
made Betty laugh, too, and she caught at his
threatening arms to hold him.

The arms went around her and then he drew
her toward where his wife was now standing,
questioning with her eyes. "As my son would
put it, you think I've spilled the beans, don't
you? Well, I haven't, kiddie." Mr. Lee dropped
his voice to a stage whisper.

"Ramon Balinsky Sevilla is not _in_ Detroit!"

"Oh, goody! But how do you know. Didn't
you tell the man that you hadn't heard from
him again!"


 [[201]]