She had failed at the Palace. What did it mean? Her life was in peril. There could be no doubt of it.
He called every wireless station of the enemy on the North Atlantic. Not one answered.
“Good!” he muttered.
He summoned the nearest operator to his relief in the tower:
“Come, for God’s sake, quick,” he called to Brooklyn, “and bring me a car—there’s trouble at the Palace—”
“Coming!” the answer sang.
In fifteen minutes an automobile dashed across the bridge and drew up on the curb at the Woolworth building.
The new operator took his instructions and Vassar turned to the chauffeur:
“Quick now—to the Sixty-ninth Regiment Armory. We have men and guns there.”
Angela had waited in the machine for her leader to leap from the Palace and drive to the first cavalry rendezvous in Westchester. Her chauffeur sat by her side, smiling, his belt and automatic about her waist.