Greeley looked as if he wished he were deaf and dumb. His hands clenched and slowly unclenched. He set himself to speak.
Just then a phone-light blinked. Moe Brimstine snatched it up, obviously prepared to roar out a rebuke and slam it down. Instead he listened silently, and kept on listening. Greeley watched him intently.
At that moment, Phil heard the soft kiss of a door slitting open and faint footsteps drabber in quality than the binaural richness of the stuff he'd been listening to. He looked down the straight dark corridor on his side of the panel. Some forty feet down it, where it ended in a T, light now flooded across. Then Phil saw Dr. Romadka cross the corridor at that point. The analyst was still carrying his black bag. In the other hand was a gun. He disappeared from sight.
"You better take this, Mr. Billig."
Phil switched around just in time to see Billig grab the phone from Brimstine with a glare. "Three of them?" Billig's words were staccato. "And a fourth man and a girl, they said? And what did they tell you the fourth man wanted? I don't care if it sounds silly! What?"
Holding the phone, Billig spared Greeley a glance. "We're going to have to delay making final arrangements for a few minutes," he said curtly. "Dora will entertain you."
"You can't delay," Greeley assured him with a sudden note of triumph. "The raid starts in ten minutes unless I return. Besides, there's only one thing important enough to make you interrupt this interview. You've lost the green cat, or you're afraid you have."
"I know Emmet would allow more time than that, even if he didn't tell you," Billig snapped back at him. "Put Benson in charge of him, Brimstine. Then come back."
"Let me contact Emmet," Greeley said quickly. "We'll cooperate with you fully in finding the cat. You have my word the indictments will be quashed."
"Word! Take him out," Billig said sharply.