“Yes. You?”
“Yes. See you later, then. You gather that Gleason has annexed the pretty Phyllis?”
“Looks like it, doesn’t it? I suppose the announcement will be made to-night at the dinner or the dance.”
“Suppose so. How I hate to see it that way. I’m in love with that little beauty myself.”
“Who isn’t?” returned Pollard, smiling, and then Barry turned off in his own street, and Pollard went on down toward his home, a small hotel on West Fortieth.
Held up for a few moments by the great tide of traffic at Forty-second Street, he glanced at his wrist watch and found it was ten minutes after six. And then, a taxicab passed him, and in it he saw Phyllis Lindsay. She did not see him, however, so, the traffic signal being given, he went on his way.
CHAPTER II—The Telephone Call
Every hour of every twenty-four is filled with amazing occurrences and startling episodes. Astonishing incidents and even more startling coincidences are happening every minute of every sixty minutes, but the fact that those most interested are unaware of these deeds is what makes the great cases of mystery.
Only an omniscient eye that could see all the activities of the few hours following the events just related could pierce the veil of doubt and uncertainty that overhung the ensuing tragedy.
The first human being to receive news of it was Miss Hester Jordan.