Of course I am sorry for Madam Bartlett, but what
can I do? You can see for yourself that my husband is in no condition to
go to her."
"Can't you say he's sick?"
"She wouldn't believe it. She's suspicious of everything I do and say. Do
you _have_ to take back an answer?"
"I told the old lady I'd find him for her. You see, I'm a--sort of a
friend of Miss Eleanor's."
Under ordinary circumstances Mrs. Ranny would have been the last to
accept this without an explanation; but there were too many other
problems pressing for her to worry about this one.
"I wonder how it would do," she said, "for you to telephone that we are
both out of town for the night, spending the week-end in the country?"
"I guess one lie is as good as another," said Quin ruefully. He was
getting involved deeper than he liked, but there seemed no other way out.
"I'll telephone from the drug-store. Anything else I can do for you?"
"You have been so kind, I hate to ask another favor."
"Let's have it," said Quin.
"Would you by any chance have time to leave a package of papers at
Bartlett & Bangs' for me the first thing in the morning? Mr. Bangs has
been telephoning me about them all day, and I've been nearly distracted,
because my husband had them in his pocket and I did not know where he
was.
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