Delaney reached for the door knob with a gesture of disdain. Drew wheeled and stared at him. “Wait a minute,” he said softly.
The operative turned and dropped his hands to his side.
“You remember the magpie?” asked Drew.
Delaney nodded.
“Well, sit down and wait. It’ll be here within five minutes. The valet ’phoned he was bringing it in a taxi. That was just before you came in.”
“Taxi!” snorted the big operative, stretching himself on the leather chair. “Them valets have got it soft. Last night was the first ride I’ve had in one for months, and––”
Delaney’s voice trailed to an end. He turned in the chair and saw Harrigan’s red face and auburn hair come slowly through the aperture made by opening the door.
“Well?” snapped Drew.
“There’s a funny lookin’ guy out here, chief,” said the assistant-manager. “He wants to see you in person. He’s got knee-britches and a bunch of brass-buttons on his monkey-jacket. Says he’s a valet.”
“Has he got anything with him?” asked Drew.