"I must see you, Bat, I must see you at once," it said. "No, no, don't come here," hurriedly, as he began proposing such a venture. "There is a cab waiting at the door now. I shall be at your place in twenty minutes."
"All right, Nora; anything you say. But if you'll only let me——"
"In twenty minutes," said the rare voice. "Good-bye."
The blank which followed told him that the girl had hung up; he turned to the boy.
"Danny," said he, "there'll be a lady along in a little while. Have her come in here and let me know right away."
"Yes, sir," said Danny, obligingly.
With his brows puckered in perplexity Bat went back to the lounging room. Ashton-Kirk was looking out at the crowds passing in the street; Dennison was reading a blackly headlined story on the front page of one of the newspapers, his pudgy hands shaking and his eyes feverish.
"The worst thing of the kind I ever heard of," said he with a kind of gurgle of horror. "The very worst. The police have been bragging about their efficiency during this last administration; now let's see what they can do. Here's a case that'll try them out."
"Oh, yes," said Bat, absently. "You were talking about being upset by this thing. It was——" He paused suddenly, remembering that he had not yet heard.
"A murder," said the detective, as he threw down the newspaper. "A most brutal and devilish murder. I talked with Tom Burton last night only a few hours before this terrible thing must have happened."