The girl was arguing indignantly, and although the man kept his voice low, that remarkable intonation made a lot of people look round. They were arguing as young lovers might, Mannering reflected dryly. He walked past them, out of the side entrance, where there was a line of taxis. He approached the first driver and spoke in a drawling but natural-seeming voice. “If I hire you for the day, will you do exactly what I tell you?” A pair of deep-set, intelligent eyes studied him for a few second. Then: “Sure. If it’s legal.” “I want to find out where a Texan in a pale brown mohair suit and a ten-gallon hat goes,” said Mannering. “I think he’s a millionaire with designs on my daughter. If he comes out this way, you follow him, and I’ll follow you.” While speaking, Mannering took out a ten dollar bill and passed it over; it disappeared as if by sleight of hand. “If he uses the other entrance I’ll come to the corner – you pick me up as fast as you can.” “You’re taking a chance,”
