“Sit down,” urged Paget. “This is Mister Burnham, Mister Cardona—”
“Glad to meet you,” said the detective. “I called at your apartment, Mister Paget. I was told that you could be reached over here.”
“I’ve been here all night,” said Paget, with a laugh. “That is, all night, since three o’clock in the morning.”
He glanced at a clock on the bookcase. “Look at that,” he added. “Nearly eleven, and I’m just getting up.
“What do you want to see me about, Cardona? Something to do with Marchand?”
“Not Marchand.”
“Who, then?”
“Haven’t you seen the morning papers?”
“Not yet. I just got up. We generally read the evening papers around here. What’s happened?”
In reply, Cardona drew a newspaper from beneath his arm and handed the journal to Paget. The clubman blinked as he observed a familiar face picture on the front page; then his eye caught the headlines.