“I’ve no notion,” Dennis replied, truthfully enough. “He’s been working on something for the last day or two while I was on—on other duty, but I expect things will be moving now. You’ve heard nothing yourself?”
“Nothing!” Goddard raised a shaking hand to his forehead. “I tell you, Riordan, we can’t—we can’t endure much more of this! If my boy were in his grave we would at least know it and learn somehow to bear it but the uncertainty is driving us mad! Unless we know the truth soon I shall lose my wife, too!”
“We’ll know.” Dennis spoke with the assurance of utter conviction. “Mac’s not one to start anything he can’t finish and I’ve worked on too many cases with him not to know the signs. If he says the lad will be found in a little while he means it but—but maybe it’ll be sick or something he’ll be. Worrying, you see, and being away from home—!”
Words failed him, for he had read in that ominous quietude of McCarty’s voice a hint of trouble yet to come. He floundered desperately in a tender-hearted attempt to pave the way. The situation was saved for him by the sudden reappearance of McCarty himself in the doorway.
“Denny, go out and call Yost in; the inspector has instructions for him.” The latent excitement had intensified in his tone. “Don’t tell the whole block what you’re doing, either!”
“I don’t know, myself!” Dennis retorted, preparing nevertheless to obey. “Shall I take his place?”
“Now you’re talking!” McCarty nodded approval. “He’ll have a message for you when he comes out and ’twill be all right to do what he says. The other night in my rooms when we were starting out to pay a couple of calls I gave you something to carry; did you think to bring it with you now?”
The revolver! Dennis started violently and one hand sought his hip pocket involuntarily as he nodded.
“All right. You’ll know what to do with it after you’ve talked to Yost. Send him in.”
Dennis departed, found the headquarters’ man patrolling listlessly on the sidewalk and delivered the message. Then he paced from gate to gate in a daze of bewildered thought. Things were indeed moving. He could not fathom what was in McCarty’s mind, but he felt a grim portent in the very air of the sunlit, semi-deserted block, like the shuddering silence before a blast.