“Yes,” came the calm reply. “He simply wanted you to get my hat and coat, and show me to the elevator.
He was busy writing, so I left him.”
“Very good, sir.”
The man brought the coat and hat, and helped Palermo put them on. Then he led the way to the elevator, and waited there until the guest had left.
In the lobby of the Grampian Apartments, Palermo instructed the doorman to call a taxi. He acted the part of Horace Chatham, and simulated great nervousness and impatience. He stumbled as he entered the cab, and gave the destination, “Grand Central Station,” in a voice loud enough for the doorman to hear.
Shortly afterward, the form of Horace Chatham mingled with the crowd in the concourse of New York’s great railway terminal. The man disappeared unobtrusively toward the Lexington Avenue entrance. He walked a few blocks, then hailed another cab from the darkness.
When the vehicle drew up at the Marimba Apartments, it was Doctor Palermo, hat and coat upon his arm, who stepped to the curb.
There was no hallman on duty after midnight. The former elevator operator was gone; his shift had ended at twelve. Thus the attendant who took Doctor Palermo to the fortieth floor was not surprised to see the physician. He did not know that no one had seen Doctor Palermo leave the building that evening.
CHAPTER III. TWO MEN INVESTIGATE
THE murder of Seth Wilkinson was front-page news. From Times to tabloids, the event was retold to the readers of the daily journals. Involving the name of Horace Chatham, a man as socially prominent and as wealthy as Wilkinson, the story was of double interest to New Yorkers.