"It made everyone feel queer," Urleigh said. "He carried back five thousand in diamonds he got away with himself—they were sold to Wrest by a man who said he was B. L. Folded."
"Say, you know Grost, head of the National Agency, in Cincinnati?"
"Very well. He's tipped me off to a lot of stories," Urleigh admitted without hesitation.
"You one of his men?"
"No."
"Just a reporter, same as always?"
"The same as always—I'm resting now, though. I'm taking a vacation."
"It beats h—l!" the wounded man commented. "Let's have supper. I got some meat to fry. That's yours. I just want a little soup! Say, now, I don't want to ask anything you can't tell. I mean about your friends"
"Go on."
"Was there a skirt anywhere in that Goles diamond job?"
"Never heard a hint of any woman in it."
"Well, we'll have supper, then." Gost shook his head, adding: "A woman always butts into a job sooner or later—same's one done into this. Don't it beat h—l?"
