Harriet lifted her square shoulders. “It’s not an encouraging sign, Mr. Maddox,” she said softly.
Maddox wiped his face with his handkerchief. “I suppose not,” he said. “But what kind of voices?”
Murphy shivered. “There’s a big dog downstairs,” he said. “I thought he spoke to me. That’s why I say I’m heating voices.’
“Spoke to you… a dog? What did he say?” Maddox demanded.
“He wanted to know if I changed socks every day.”
I jumped to my feet, “What?” I shouted, “a dog?”
Murphy shrank back, “Yes, Mr. Millan, a big dog I shouldn’t ought to bother you with this…”
“Where is he?” I shouted. “It’s Whisky” I turned on Maddox. “Now, I’ll show you something. Get that dog up here! Where did you leave him?”
“I don’t want him up here,” Murphy wailed. “I couldn’t bear to have him up here.”
I rushed to the door and jerked it open. Half the office staff, who had been listening at the keyhole, fell into the room, but I didn’t stop. I trod over them, shoving the others out of the way and rushed for the elevator.