“At the Hotel Pavilion,” responded Carpenter. “The police are there, now. I called them. I had to get away.”
“I suppose you did,” growled Yates, tightening his hold on his gun. “A fine story, this—”
“Hear the man,” interrupted Cruikshank sharply. “Tell us, Carpenter, why have you come here?”
“On your account,” responded Carpenter. “You are in danger, Mayor Cruikshank. They are after you—”
The mayor raised his hand. The telephone was ringing. Cruikshank lifted the receiver.
“Chief Yates?” he questioned. “He is here, but busy. This is Mayor Cruikshank. Yes… Speak to me, then… At the Hotel Pavilion? Yes, I shall tell Chief Yates… All under control, you say? Good.”
He hung up the receiver. He looked about the room and spoke quietly to the tense men who seemed to question him.
“The police have captured a dozen gangsters,” he declared. “They were trying to kidnap the girl, as Carpenter has said. Some of them were shot. Evidently, Carpenter’s story is correct.”
“I had better be getting down to the hotel,” interrupted Graham Hurley, the proprietor of the Pavilion.
“Not yet,” declared Cruikshank quietly. “You belong here with the committee. We will hear this out.”