The southpaw was suddenly attacked by an intense distaste for the company of Tom Garrity’s coarse hireling. He handed the paper back in silence. But the feeling of dislike and antagonism was evidently felt by Skullen, for, after a few minutes’ silence, he got up and walked out of the car; and, to his satisfaction, Lefty saw no more of him during the remainder of the journey.
An uncomfortable storm of rain and sleet was raging when New York was reached shortly after nightfall. A taxi bore Locke to the Great Eastern, where he learned that Frazer had not yet arrived. Having registered, he took the elevator for his room on the seventh floor, and, as he was borne upward, a descending car, well filled with people, slipped silently past, and Lefty caught a momentary glimpse of their faces through the iron grillwork. One face he saw quite plainly, that of a charming young woman in her early twenties–a face he recognized at once.
“Virginia Collier!” gasped Lefty, in astonishment.
He did not leave the car; back to the main floor he went. After hastily looking around for the young woman he sought, he made inquiries at the desk. He was informed that no Miss Collier was stopping in the hotel. Still confident that he had not been mistaken, and thinking it probable she was dining there with friends, he had her paged. Even when the report came that no one answered to the name, he did not give up. From various vantage points, he spent at least twenty minutes looking over the people at dinner in the main dining room, the grill, and the palm room. At the end of that time he was confident that Charles Collier’s daughter was not dining at the Great Eastern.
“Of course,” he admitted to himself, “it’s possible I was mistaken, but I would have sworn it was Virginia.”
He went up to his room and prepared for dinner, burdened by the conviction that he had been baffled; that fate had played him a trick. He would have given much for fifteen minutes’ conversation with the daughter of the Big Chief, and he was impressed with the belief that he had passed her almost within an arm’s reach.
This feeling was followed by one of uncertainty regarding Frazer. Old Jack had assured him that the manager of the Wolves would meet him at the Great Eastern, and he had relied on Kennedy without attempting to get into direct communication with Frazer, and perhaps, after all, he would not come.
“Then I’ll have to run him down,” considered Lefty. “And I want to get to him before Weegman can get to me. If I don’t, he’ll be sure to try to ball up any deal I attempt to put across.”
Choosing to eat in the grill, he notified the desk where he could be found should any one ask for him. But he had scarcely begun on the first course when he heard his name spoken, and looked up to find Ben Frazer smiling down upon him.