"Gee!" cried Frank. "Somepin doin' all right! I'm glad I didn't go home!"
"Is the family all up-stairs?" asked Greg.
Frank nodded.
"Find out who he's been telephoning to, will you? I suppose the operator's been listening in."
"You bet we ain't losing nothing from that apartment now. I can tell you without asking him. The Spanish bloke's been telephoning to a doctor guy that runs a sanitarium-like on Eighty-third Street; I took down the address for you; it's Doctor Tasker, 411 West Eighty-third. Seems her old man's going to take her there to-night. He's trying to make out she's looney."
"I know," Greg said. "Can I get up-stairs by the service elevator, and have a word with the maid?"
"She's fired," said Frank.
"The deuce you say!"
"Señor Soak-oater turned her out soon as he come home. She's down in the basement now, crying to the engineer's wife, 'cause she ain't got no place to go."
"I'll fix that," said Greg. "Show me the way."