All the while his secretary, Graham, had been plugging away at his switchboard. Standing, pacing up and down, heard his "Hello—hello—hello."
Within three minutes the stable telephone rang sharply. Standing caught it up. It was Dick Ross again, reporting:
"Bill didn't go off the case until three o'clock this morning. Had to operate again at about two; taking out a little piece of skull bone. He left Charley Peters in charge then; Charley's on the job now."
"Thor's alive then?"
"Yes, sir."
"Fine! I'll be out in a few minutes to see him. Bill's got him in the 'hospital'?"
"Sure, Mr. Standing. Thor couldn't be gettin' better care if he was King of England."
Standing rang off and came back to Graham from whose eyes now all heaviness of sleep had fled, leaving them keen and quick. Hardly more than a youngster, this Graham, and yet Timber-Wolf's confidential secretary, trained by Standing himself to Standing's ways.
"I've got Mr. Brewster's home on the wire," said Graham looking up. "He's not up yet but they're calling him...."