They did all the shopping they had to for Terry’s mother and walked once around the block to kill more time before returning to the drug store.
Arden could no longer be diplomatic. She marched up to the dull-looking soda boy and asked in clear tones: “Did a message come for me?”
“Haven’t had a call today,” replied the youth behind the counter. “Were you expect——”
The phone bell rang sharply. Arden almost ran to answer it, slamming the door shut behind her.
Terry and Sim could see her face, bright with anticipation for a few seconds, then with dismay saw her expression change. They couldn’t hear what she was saying, but in a short while she was out again and beckoned them to follow her outside.
“That was one of the managers of the telegraph company in New York,” Arden reported. “He’s in the office nearest Ninth Street. He said they couldn’t send a boy out to deliver a message without a street address—it would lose too much time. But if we are willing to pay extra for messenger service, he says he’ll have a boy sort of scout around and try to locate the party.”
“What did you tell him?” asked Terry.
“Told him to go ahead and we’d pay anything in reason. He said it probably would not be much more than a dollar.”
“We’ll chip in,” declared Terry.
“I thought you would; that’s why I authorized him to go on. So now we’ll have some more waiting. They’re going to try again.”