No, said a supercilious voice, Mr. Godfrey was not there; he had left some time before; no, the speaker did not know where he was going, nor when he would be back.
"Look here," I said, "this is important. I want to talk to the city editor—and be quick about it."
There was an instant's astonished silence.
"What name?" asked the voice.
"Lester, of Royce and Lester—and you might tell your city editor that Godfrey is a close friend of mine."
The city editor seemed to understand, for I was switched on to him a moment later. But he was scarcely more satisfactory.
"We sent Godfrey up into Westchester to see a man," he said, "on a tip that looked pretty good. He started just as soon as he got his Pigot story written, and he ought to be back almost any time. Is there a message I can give him?"
"Yes—tell him Pigot is at the Twenty-third Street station, and that he'd better come up as soon as he can."
"Very good. I'll give him the message the moment he comes in."
"Thank you," I said, but the disappointment was a bitter one.