“Then he meant it, after all!” he exclaimed at last.
“Seems like it,” Quest admitted. “I’ll just telephone to French.”
The Professor rose to his feet, knocked the ash from his cigar, struggled into his coat, and took up his hat. Then he waited until Quest had completed his conversation. The latter’s face had grown grave and puzzled. It was obvious that he was receiving information of some importance. He put down the instrument at last with a curt word of farewell.
“Let me send a couple of men up with you, Professor,” he begged. “You don’t want to run any risk of having Craig there before we arrive.”
The Professor smiled.
“My friend,” he said, “it is seldom in my life that I have had to have recourse to physical violence, but I flatter myself that there is no man who would do me any harm. We will meet, then, at my house. You will bring the young ladies?”
“Sure!” Quest replied. “I am just sending word up to them now.”
The Professor moved towards the door.
“If only this may prove to be the end!” he sighed.