“Are you mad?” he asked. “Ella Bennett has a father——”
“I’m not talking about Ella Bennett,” said the calm Elk. “I’m talking about Lola Bassano.”
There was a silence.
“Was it her voice?” asked Gordon a little breathlessly.
“Sure it was Lola. It was a pretty good imitation of Miss Bennett, but any mimic will tell you that these soft voices are easy. It’s the pace of a voice that makes it . . .”
“You villain!” said Dick Gordon, as a weight rolled from his heart. “You knew I meant Ella Bennett when I was talking, and you strung me along!”
“Blame me,” said Elk. “What’s the time?”
It was half-past three. He gathered his reserves, and ten minutes later the police cars dropped a party at the closed door of Caverley House. The bell brought the night porter, who recognized Elk.
“More gas trouble?” he asked.
“Want to see the house plan,” said Elk, and listened as the porter detailed the names, occupations and peculiarities of the tenants.