At any rate, she concluded to trace Pollock and find out something about him.
When he left the car, as he did shortly, she rose and followed him. He had not glanced at her, and was apparently absorbed in thought, so she had no difficulty in walking, unnoticed, behind him.
She smiled at herself, as she realized she was really "shadowing," and felt quite like a detective.
Pollock went into a small restaurant, and Iris, through the wide window, saw him take a seat at a table. The deliberation with which he unfolded his napkin, and looked over the menu, made her assume that he would be there some time.
Acting on the impulse of the moment, Iris ran to the nearest telephone she could find, and called up a detective agency.
Over the wire she stated her desire to employ a detective at once, and asked to have him sent to her, where she was, which was in a drug shop.
There was a maddening delay, and as Iris waited, she began to fear she had done a foolish thing. She suddenly realized that she had acted too quickly and perhaps unadvisedly. But she must stand by it now.
It was half an hour before a man arrived and met her at the door of the drug shop.
"I am Mr. Dayton," he said, "from the agency. Is this Miss Clyde?"
"Yes," said Iris, "and please hurry! I've just got on the track of a man who is a--a burglar----"
"Ma'am?" and the detective looked sharply at this young girl who had called him to her.
"Yes," and Iris grew impatient at his doubtful interest, "now, don't stop to parley, but catch him."
"He's in the restaurant, half a block away. I don't mean for you to arrest him, but trail him, shadow him, or whatever you call it, and find out who he is, and what sort of a character he bears. If he's a correct and decent citizen, all right; if he's a man who might be a burglar, I want to know it! Now, fly!"
"Wait a minute, Miss Clyde. Tell me more. How shall I know him?"
"Oh, he's at the table by the first front window, as you go from here. He's a tall man, and a strong-looking one. Come on, I'll point him out."
They went toward the restaurant, and cautiously Iris looked in at the window. But her quarry had fled. There was no one at the table at all.
"Come on in," she cried to the bewildered Dayton. "No, that won't do, he mustn't see me. You go in, and get the waiter who served him, or the proprietor or somebody, and find out who the man was who ate at that table just now. Maybe he's still in the coat room."