“No, sir. It’s hardly his time——”
“Please tell him I’d like to see him if he can spare me a moment.”
Then he entered a door which bore his name and closed it carefully behind him, opened his desk, glanced at his watch, made two or three turns up and down the room and then took up the telephone book, Logan—Lord—Lorimer, Loring. There it was. 7000 Plaza. He hesitated again and then rang up the number.
It was some moments before the butler consented to get Miss Loring, and when he did she did not recognize his voice.
“Who is it?” she asked.
“Can’t you guess?”
“Oh, Phil! I didn’t know you at all. Where are you?”
“At the office.”
“Already! And I’m not out of bed!”
“Did I wake you? I’m sorry——”