"How long will you give him?"
"Just five minutes. He didn't like the absinthe, did he?"
Ralston laughed softly. He knew what twentieth century miracles McCullough could work.
"Have you got a telephone?" he inquired.
"Shure," answered Mac, leading the way to the office.
Ralston lost no time in calling up the armory.
"I want Clarence. Send him to the 'phone!"
A wait of a couple of minutes followed.
"Is that you, Clarence?"
"Yassah."