remarkable forehead—whom he introduced as Mr. P. P. Harper. “I think I ’ll put you in his office,” Babbing explained, “as an office boy—from what he has told me of the case. Sit down. I want you to hear the details.”
Harper was looking Barney over, and he did not notice the slow, significant scrutiny with which Babbing put the boy on his guard. Barney turned from that glance and regarded Harper innocently.
“Is he a detective?” Harper asked.
“You would never suspect it, eh?” Babbing said.
“I certainly would not.”
“That ’s what makes him so successful. Tell me, now; your office is in the Broad Street Building?”
“Yes.”
“Are you a broker?”
“No, I ’m a promoter,” Harper answered. He settled back comfortably in his chair, “And a financial adviser.”
“For whom?”
