It started to write, as Kennedy wrote, upstairs:
"HOUSE DETECTIVE—QUICK—HOLD WOMAN WITH BLUE CHATELAINE BAG, GETTING OUT OF ELEVATOR."
The clerks downstairs saw it and shouted above the din of the rat-baiting.
"McCann—McCann!"
The clerk had torn off the message from the telautograph register, and handed it to the house man who pushed his way to the desk.
Quickly the detective called to the bell-hops. Together they hurried after the well-dressed woman who had just swept out of the elevator. Mary had already passed through the excited lobby and out, and was about to cross the street—safe.
McCann and the bell-hops were now in full cry after her. Flight was useless. She took refuge in indignation and threats.
But McCann was obdurate. She passed quickly to tears and pleadings. It had no effect. They insisted on leading her back. The game was up.
Even an offer of money failed to move their adamantine hearts. Nothing would do but that she must face her accusers.
In the meantime Long Sin had recovered his precious and useful pets. Life in the Coste had assumed something of its normal aspect, and Craig had succeeded in getting an elevator.