There was silence until the outer door had crashed behind him. Then the judge leaped into activity.
"The Heberworth Building. Part of the Vandervent estate, isn't it, Randall?"
Randall shook his head. He was a clever business man, doubtless, thought Clancy, but his mind seemed not nearly so quick as the judge's.
"I don't know," he answered.
"Well, I do," said the judge. "It's a shame; it's tough on Phil to make him suborn perjury, but I don't see any other way out of it. Where's the telephone, Miss Deane?"
"It's out of order," Clancy gasped.
The judge frowned.
"Well, it doesn't matter. Half an hour from now will do as well as earlier, I guess. Run up-stairs and pack your things." He turned to his wife. "Better help her," he suggested.
"'Pack?'" gasped Clancy.