My fugue work brought little Pete, and Murray, one of the men from the operatives' room.
"Where's Roberts?" I asked the latter.
"He went to lunch, Mr. Boyne."
"Where's Foster?" Foster was chief operative.
"He telephoned in from Redwood City half an hour ago. Chasing a Clayte clue down the peninsula."
"If he calls up again, tell him to report in at once. Is there a stenographer about?"
"Not a one; Sunday, you know."
"Can you take dictation?"
"Me? Why, no, sir."
"Then dig me somebody who can. And rush it. I've—"