It was just after supper that I was called to the telephone.
It was O’Leary, and his voice seemed very far away.
“Is there anyone else in the office?” he asked.
“No.”
“Is this line private? Is there a way for anyone to listen in?”
“No.”
“Then listen, Miss Keate. I can’t get out to the hospital right now and there is something I want to know. Has anything—any article of furniture—any—er—bed linen—blankets—pillows—anything of the sort, been taken out of the room we are interested in?”
“Only the soiled linens,” I replied.
There was a long silence, so long that I repeated my answer.
“Yes, I heard you,” he said hastily. “Are you positive about that? Think hard, Miss Keate.”