She jumped to her feet, and with a blind, instinctive desire for a weapon, pulled the Colt out of the pocket of the limousine and thrust it into her muff. A moment later she was running across the pavement and up the marble steps. The janitor pulled open the swing-door for her. She fixed him with excited eyes.
“Who was that who came in with Mr. Forsdyke just now?” she asked breathlessly.
The janitor stared.
“No one, miss. Mr. Forsdyke was alone.”
Alone! She repressed an impulse to scream out, dashed to the elevator which had just come to rest after its descent. The attendant opened the gate at her approach.
“Did you take Mr. Forsdyke up just now?” she asked.
“Yes, miss.”
“Was he alone?”
“Sure!—He came in alone.”
“Take me up!” She trembled so that she could scarcely stand. Her eyes closed in a sickening anxiety as she swayed back against the wall of the elevator.