Dorothy caught his arm. “Don’t be silly, now,” she urged.
“But I can’t call in a detective, Dorothy. I know I’m rotten at explaining, but if these devils who have Janet in their power are interfered with they will kill her out of hand!”
“But you spoke of the Secret Service just now. This is not for publication, but Mr. Sanborn is the head of that branch of the government. If anyone can help Janet, he can do it.”
“I doubt it. I admit I’m half crazy with worry, but Janet is going to be removed from the apartment tonight, and heaven only knows what will happen then. It takes days, generally weeks, to get the government started on anything.”
“Not Sanborn’s branch of it,” interrupted Bill. “We’re talking in circles, Bright. If Sanborn can’t help Janet, he’ll tell you so. At least you can give him the dope and find out. He’s an expert and you’ll get expert advice.”
“All right, I’ll go with you. But I’m afraid it won’t do any good. Please don’t think, though, that I’m not appreciating the interest you’re taking. I don’t mean to be a wet blanket.”
“Of course you don’t, and you’re not.” Dorothy led toward the staircase. “You’ll feel a whole lot better when you get the story off your chest.”
“And when you’ve got outside a good substantial lunch,” added Bill. “I know I shall, anyway.”
“That,” said Dorothy, “is just like a boy. I believe you’d eat a good meal, Bill, an hour before you were hung, if it were offered to you.”
“I’d be hanged if I didn’t,” he laughed and followed her down the steps onto the main floor.