Clifford stole swiftly and noiselessly out. Fifteen minutes later he was calling his name through Mary Regan’s door; and after a ten minutes’ wait he was in her presence. During those minutes he had done much thinking.
“Do you still control the lease to the apartment you had in the Mordona?” he asked quietly.
She was bewildered. “Yes. Jack and I took it until the first of October. Why?”
“Then you still have a key to the apartment?”
“Yes.”
“How much baggage do you have here? Not much, I hope.”
“A steamer trunk, and a bag.”
“Pack them. In half an hour you move back to the Mordona.”
“Back to the Mordona!” she exclaimed. “What for?”
He told her something of the formless danger in which she stood. “To be safe for the present, you’ve got to be where no one will find you. And the Mordona is about the last place any one will look for you. I’ll get a car from Headquarters to move you, and you’ll leave no trail from here.”