"He refuses, eh? Does he give any reason?"
"None. I'm sorry."
Armstrong hung up the receiver, and with a gesture of despair turned about. Dorns eyed him, produced a cigar, bit on it.
"Back, is he?"
"Yes. No chance."
"Huh! Had breakfast?"
"Yes."
"So've I. Let's go! I want to get this thing cleaned up and catch a noon train East. Got to be in New York to-morrow night sure. Come on! This bird sees us inside of ten minutes."
Armstrong shrugged, caught up his hat, and followed Dorns. They found a taxicab at the hotel entrance. Dorns growled at the driver.
"Statehouse. Make it quick."