I looked at Kennedy in blank surprise.
"They rang off before I could ask them a question," said Craig. "Central tells me it was a pay station call. There doesn't seem to be any way of tracing it. But, at least I have a record of the voice."
"What are you going to do?" I queried. "It may be a fake."
"Yes, but I'm going to investigate it. Do you feel strong enough to go down to Whitney's with me?"
The startling news had been like a tonic. "Of course," I replied, seizing my hat.
Kennedy paused only long enough to call Norton. The archaeologist was out, and we hurried on downtown to Whitney's.
Whitney was not there and his clerk was just about to close the office. All the books were put away in the safe and the desks were closed. Now and then there echoed up the hall the clang of an elevator door.
"Where is Mr. Whitney?" demanded Craig of the clerk.
"I can't say. He went out a couple of hours ago."
"Did he have a visit from one of his detectives?" shot out Craig suddenly.