“Trust me,” the man replied quietly. “There’s just one way to reach this woman without risk of detection—and that’s good only if we act now. Get your things together; pay your bill; leave word to deliver your trunks to your order; and come with me. I have a motor-car waiting round the corner. In an hour we can be out of the city. By noon I can have you at Miss Landis’ home.”
“Yes,” she cried, almost hysterical—“yes, that’s the way!”
“Then do what packing you must. Here, I’ll lend a hand.”
Fortunately, Eleanor had merely opened her trunks and bags, removing only such garments and toilet accessories as she had required for dinner and the theatre. These lay scattered about the room, easily to be gathered up and stuffed with careless haste into her trunks. In ten minutes the man was turning the keys in their various locks, while she stood waiting with a small handbag containing a few necessaries, a motor-coat over her arm, a thick veil draped from her hat.
“One minute,” the man said, straightening up from the last piece of luggage. “You were telephoning when I came in?”
“Yes—to Mr. Staff, to explain why I failed to bring him the bandbox.”
“Hmmm.” He pondered this, chin in hand. “He’ll be fretting. Does he know where you are?”
“No—I forgot to tell him.”
“That’s good. Still, you’d better call him up again and put his mind at rest. It may gain us a few hours.”
“What am I to say?”