Quest’s voice broke an unnatural silence.
“You are anxious to telephone some one,” he said.
“You looked at both of the booths as we came through the hotel. Then you remembered, I think, that he would not be there yet. Telephone now. The telephone is at your right hand. You know the number.”
She obeyed almost at once. She took the receiver from the instrument by her side.
“Number 700, New York City.”
“You will ask,” Quest continued, “whether he is all right, whether the jewels are safe.”
There was a brief silence, then the girl’s voice.
“Are you there, James?… Yes, I am Lenora. Are you safe? Have you the jewels?… Where?… You are sure that you are safe…. No, nothing fresh has happened.”
“You are at the hotel,” Quest said softly. “You are going to him.”
“I cannot sleep,” she continued. “I am coming to you.”