Chapter XIII — The Midnight Meeting
One night after Stuart Bruxton's experience in Greenhurst, Harry Vincent encountered developments in Philadelphia.
From the darkened window of a small apartment, he was peering across a narrow courtyard to a lighted room in a wing of the same building. The window of that room was open.
Harry was watching Denby Chadwick.
A sound came across the court. It was the ringing of a telephone. Harry was awaiting it as eagerly as Chadwick. He looked at the luminous dial of his wrist watch. It registered twenty minutes of eleven. Chadwick was answering the telephone.
"Yes — yes" — were his words — "I understand. I've been waiting to hear from you. I don't like it, though… I'm afraid I'll lose everything… You're demanding too much… No — no" — the voice had a pathetic note "don't say that… Wait… Wait a moment." Chadwick left the phone and came to the window. He stared out into the court with haggard eyes. His hands moved restlessly, clasping and unclasping. He drew down the sash.
Unable to hear more, Harry left his apartment and hastened through the hall. It was a considerable distance to the door of Chadwick's apartment.
Arriving there, Harry found himself in luck. The transom of Chadwick's door was slightly open. Harry could hear the voice within, although the words were not so plain as they had been in the room across the court.
Harry realized that he had missed an important part of Chadwick's conversation, and he chided himself for not having come here the moment that the phone call had commenced. It was too late for such regrets, however.
"I understand," Harry heard Chadwick say. "I've got to come through" — the voice was glum — "and you're letting me off easy, after all. I want to be sure that this is all of it, though." A pause followed, indicating that Chadwick was listening from the other end. Then came these words: