“Bertha gone home yet?” I asked.
“No, she’s just leaving.”
“Tell her to wait. Tell her I’m coming up. It’s important.”
“All right. Did some girl get in touch with you?”
“A girl?”
“Yes. She said she was an old friend of yours. She didn’t give her name. She sounded on the up and up, and I told her where you lived.”
“All right. Thanks, Elsie. Tell Bertha I’ll be right up.”
I hung up the telephone, went back to my room, and dressed. I got the motor started on the agency car and no fought the afternoon traffic getting up to the office. It was ten minutes to six when I walked in.
Elsie Brand had gone home. Bertha Cool was waiting. She said, “For Pete’s sake, Donald, don’t sleep all day, and then make me stay in the office all evening. What is it you want?”
“Heard anything from Smith?” I asked.