"I have told you all that I can," she whispered, "but if you hurried, you could catch the New York to-night—and I think I should advise you to go."
CHAPTER XXXVI
Fischer, on leaving his unsuccessful dinner party, drove direct to the residence of Mr. Max H. Bookam, in Fifth Avenue. The butler who admitted him looked a little blank at his inquiry.
"Mr. Bookam was expected home yesterday, sir," he announced. "He has not arrived, however."
"Has there been any telegram from him?—any news as to the cause of his non-return?" Fischer persisted.
"I believe that Mr. Kaye, his secretary, has some information, sir," the man admitted. "Perhaps you would like to see him."
Fischer did not hesitate, and was conducted at once to the study in which Mr. Bookam was wont to indulge in various nefarious Stock Exchange adventures. The room was occupied on this occasion by a dejected-looking young man, with pasty face and gold spectacles. The apartment, as Fischer was quick to notice, showed signs of a strange disorder.
"Where's Mr. Bookam?" he asked quickly.
The young man walked to the door, shook it to be sure that it was closed, and came back again. His tone was ominous, almost dramatic.
"In the State Prison at——, sir," he announced.