Clancy forced Senator Meiklejohn’s hand early in the fray. He was at the Senator’s flat within an hour of the time Ronald Tower was dragged into the Hudson, but a smooth-spoken English man-servant assured the detective that his master was out, and not expected home until two or three in the morning.
This arrangement obviously referred to the Van Hofen festivity, so Clancy contented himself with asking the valet to give the Senator a card on which he scribbled a telephone number and the words, “Please ring up when you get this.”
Now, he knew, and Senator Meiklejohn knew, the theater at which Mrs. Tower was enjoying herself. He did not imagine for an instant that the Senator was discharging the mournful duty of announcing to his friend’s wife the lamentable fate which had overtaken her husband. Merely as a perfunctory duty he went to the theater and sought the manager.
“You know Mrs. Ronald Tower?” he said.
“Sure I do,” said the official. “She’s inside now. Came here with Bobby Forrest.”
“Anybody called for her recently?”
“I think not, but I’ll soon find out.”
No. Mrs. Tower’s appreciation of Belasco’s genius had not been disturbed that evening.
“Anything wrong?” inquired the manager.