“That’s better! You’re reviving. Well, good-by, Senator! Au revoir sans adieux!”
The big man swaggered out. Meiklejohn drank no spirits. He needed a clear brain that evening. After deep self-communing he rang up police headquarters and inquired for Mr. Clancy.
“Mr. Clancy is out,” he was told by some one with a strong, resonant voice. “Anything we can do, Senator?”
“About that poor woman, Rachel Craik—”
“Oh, she’s all right! She gave us a farewell smile two hours ago.”
“You mean she is at liberty?”
“Certainly, Senator.”
“May I ask to whom I am speaking?”
“Steingall, Chief of the Bureau.”
“This wretched affair—it’s merely a family squabble between Miss Craik and a relative—might well end now, Mr. Steingall.”