It was but a step to Headquarters and he walked.
“The Superintendent,” he said to the sergeant on duty in the outer office.
“The Chief has gone home, Mr. Harleston,” was the answer.
“Home?”
“Yes, sir, two hours ago; he’ll not be back tonight.”
“Get him on the telephone,” Harleston directed.
“Yes, sir, Mr. Harleston.... Here he is, sir—you can use the ’phone in the private office.”
“Hello! Is that you, Ranleigh? Yes, I recognized the voice. Did you telephone me at the Chateau about six-thirty?... You didn’t?... You were on your way home at that hour.... Yes, exactly; it was a plant.... Do you know Crenshaw escaped from my apartment.... Yes, I saw him in the Chateau this evening.... What?... Yes, better look up Whiteside at once.... Yes, in the Collingwood.... Very good; I’ll meet you there.... All right, I’ll tell the sergeant.”
XII—Carpenter
Harleston took a taxi to the Collingwood, arriving just as Ranleigh came up, and the two men went in together.