"All right," said the doctor frigidly.
Five minutes later Elaine Robertson had left No. 30 John Street, in Doctor Corman's company.
CHAPTER VIII
ONWARD TO THE UNKNOWN
Tom was raving. Everything had been done in such haste that his brain was in a whirl when he tried to look back upon recent events. Elaine's cold and hurried "Good-by" stung him like a thousand pin-pricks, and the doctor's voice echoed fiendishly shrill in his ears. Why had Wallion given in so quickly?
The journalist did not stop to listen to Tom's excited inquiries. He made some hurried notes in his pocket-book and departed. It seemed as if he were pursuing some new train of thought. Had he got weary of the Elaine Robertson mystery after the unforeseen intermezzo? Half-an-hour later he sent the following telephone message: "Expect me at five o'clock. Tell Mrs. Toby to have dinner ready and inquire whether any one saw the girl leave the house. Further details later on." Then he rang off.
* * * * *
Shortly before five o'clock that same afternoon Wallion came to see Tom, who was sitting in his room, lost in melancholy reflections.
"We have hurled the bomb," he said, throwing a bundle of newspapers on the table, "but it has not exploded yet."
He proceeded to unfold the evening paper and pointed to a column therein, headed: