“You’re going along with your friend Vincent,” interposed Cranston. “He dropped by to see me today and told me how he’d helped you out last night. A capable chap, Vincent.”
Forced to agree, Phil gave a nod meaning that a team-up with Vincent would suit him.
Cranston was making another phone call, this time to an old carriage factory, to ask them if they’d finished a repair job on an old hansom that had been sent there. Learning that they had, Cranston ordered the vehicle sent to the Chateau Parkview.
Going out with Phil, Cranston locked the door of Ronjan’s suite leaving it for the police to find Yuble’s body in due course. Downstairs, however, Cranston scorned the usual lobby door. Instead, he guided Phil to a telephone booth in the alcove.
“From things that you and Arlene mentioned,” said Cranston, “I thought it a good idea to check on this. Watch.”
Stepping into the booth, Cranston vanished. Unable to believe his eyes, Phil came alert, tugged at the door and found the booth quite empty. Crowding in for a better look, Phil heard the door jar behind him. There was a sharp click and Phil was reeling through the wall, into an empty corridor of a narrow building next door to the hotel.
It was Harry Vincent who stopped Phil’s stagger. Finding that Phil was quite undamaged, Harry nodded and said:
“The gas load wasn’t there tonight.”
“You mean that’s what happened the other time I came through?” queried Phil. “Why I was so groggy and didn’t wake up until I was out in the park somewhere?”
“That’s right.”