"I don't believe it!" I retorted. "I don't——"
The door opened and the clerk came in.
"Somebody wants you at the 'phone, Mr. Lester," he said; "long distance," and he led the way to the booth.
It was Mr. Royce, and not until that moment did I remember that my absence from the office was unexplained.
"I was a little worried at first," he said, in answer to my question, "but when I saw that special from Elizabeth in the Record this morning, I began to understand, especially when I called up your landlady, and found you'd left the house in a hurry last night after getting a telegram."
"Yes, it was from Godfrey."
"What's up? The clerk down there told me this morning that you'd come in about daybreak looking like you'd been digging a sewer, and that a policeman was guarding you in your room."
"Yes, I was suspected of murder for a while, but I'm not under guard any longer. I'll get back to the office as soon as I can."
"Oh, take your time—I'm getting along fairly well. Of course I've read the papers—there's no connection between this affair and that other one, is there, Lester?"
"Godfrey thinks so," I answered, glancing around to make sure that the door of the booth was securely closed. "He thinks the dead man was Miss L.'s husband, and half believes she killed him."