“So?” grunted Kennedy. “I wondered just what was up, and I came right along in answer to your call, but my train was delayed. What are the new developments?”
“Sit down,” said Locke, “and I’ll tell you. Since I sent you that message I’ve heard something that’s got me guessing–and worried.”
“The contracts?” questioned old Jack, sitting down. “The boys signed up, didn’t they?”
“Every one of them. That’s not the trouble. I’ve had a talk with Jack Stillman.”
“The only reporter I know with a noodle screwed on right,” said Kennedy. “His bean’s packed with sound sense. When he gets an idea it’s generally correct.”
“In that case, unless he’s made a bobble this time, the situation’s worse than we suspected, Jack.”
“Give me the dope,” urged Kennedy.
The old man listened to Locke without comment, and when Lefty had finished, he sat thoughtfully plucking at his under lip with his thumb and forefinger.
“Well,” he said, after a time, “Stillman usually puts them in the groove when he shoots.”
“Then you think he’s hit it right in this case?”