[CHAPTER XVI]
REGGIE TO THE RESCUE
“Not yet!” snapped Jim, resolutely. “You’re going to give me a moment more, or I’ll know the reason why.”
Just then McRae entered the room. He gazed upon the tableau in surprise, then his eyes rested on Joe’s street clothes.
“Why the glad rags, Joe?” he asked, trying to mask his growing concern by an air of easy good nature. “Not going to beat up the Bostons in that rig, are you?”
“McRae,” said Joe in the tone of one whose patience is being pushed too far, “I’m sorry this has happened. I can’t even stop to explain now. My wife’s sick and I’ve got to go. Jim will give you all the details you want. Good-by.”
“Just a minute, Joe,” Jim’s voice broke in crisply. “I think you owe it to yourself—to say nothing of McRae and the team—to make one more attempt to get in touch with Mabel.”
“How?” Joe demanded. “The ’phone——”
“We can get Reggie. He’s staying within a short distance of Riverside just now, you know.”
“All right, we’ll try to get Reggie,” Joe broke in impatiently. “Though what he can tell us I’m sure I don’t know,” he added, as he picked up the telephone again and called long distance.