She lifted her hand to the receiver.
“Tell him you were cut off and had trouble getting his number again. Say your motor broke down in Central Park and you lost your way trying to walk home. Say you’re tired and don’t want to be disturbed till noon; that you have the necklace safe and will give it to him if he will call tomorrow.”
Eleanor took a deep breath, gave the number to the switchboard operator and before she had time to give another instant’s consideration to what she was doing, found herself in conversation with Staff, reciting the communication outlined by her evil genius in response to his eager questioning.
The man was at her elbow all the while she talked—so close that he could easily overhear the other end of the dialogue. This was with a purpose made manifest when Staff asked Eleanor where she was stopping, when instantly the little man clapped his palm over the transmitter.
“Tell him the St. Regis,” he said in a sharp whisper.
Her eyes demanded the reason why.
“Don’t stop to argue—do as I say: it’ll give us more time. The St. Regis!”
He removed his hand. Blindly she obeyed, reiterating the name to Staff and presently saying good-bye.
“And now—not a second to spare—hurry!”
In the hallway, while they waited for the elevator, he had further instructions for her.