She nervously took up the book and began to flutter the pages. Just then Webster called:
“Hello.”
“Hello, Garry. This is Kenyon.”
“Ah, still on the quest?”
“I want you to meet me at the foot of Twenty-third Street, East River, as soon as you can get there.”
There was a snort of astonishment at the Waldorf end of the wire. Then Webster demanded, excitedly:
“What’s doing, Ken?”
“There promises to be plenty.”
“All right,” exultantly. “I’m with you.”
“Good; ring off, and call an auto. You can’t get there too quick.”