Not Bel's voice. Still it might be a trick. When she forced herself to turn key and knob, she more than half expected to see her husband. But the bellboy was alone. Lucinda took the bill and was counting out the money, when the telephone began to trill again.
"Take those bags, please," she said, indicating the new dressing-case and the bag which she had brought from New York, "put them in a taxi at the door, and hold it till I come down. I shan't be long."
Alone, she answered the telephone.
"Hello? That you, Linda? It's I, Bel."
"Y-yes, I—I know."
"Thank God, I've found you! See here: I'm coming up, if you don't mind. All right?"
"Yes, Bellamy—it—it's all right."
Running out into the hall, she found the stairs and pelted up two flights. One of the elevators was rising. It stopped two floors below, then came on up in response to her ring. The attendant whom she had tipped so well was in charge, and there was nobody else in the car.
"Did you let somebody out at my floor?"
"Yes, ma'm, gempman."