“Where is she now? Quick, let's go to her.”
He rose to his feet. Just then a door-boy walked through the grill-room toward him. “A telephone call for Captain Cronin, sir; the party said hurry or he would miss something good.”
Shirley snapped out, “When has the rule about telephone calls in this club been changed? You boys are never to tell any one that a member or guest are here until the name is announced.”
He turned toward the puzzled Captain.
“Did you ask any of your operatives to call you here? You know what a risk you are taking, to connect me with this case like that, don't you?”
“I never even breathed it to myself. I told no one.”
“Follow me up to the telephone room.”
Shirley hurried through the grill, to the switchboard, near which stood the booths for private calls. He called to one of the operators. “Here, let me at that switchboard.” He pushed the boy aside, and sat down in the vacated chair.
“Which trunk is it on? Oh, I see, the second. There Captain, take the fourth booth against the wall.”
Cronin stepped in. Shirley connected up and listened with the transmitter of the operator at his ear, holding the line open.