Again Patsy tried to look through the keyhole, but this time he found the opening stuffed with paper.
“It’s dead sure they do things in that room they don’t want people to get onto,” thought Patsy, “and that proves, in a way, that my man is there. Still, I’d like to get a fair and square look at him.”
Sinking down on his knees, he laid his ear against the crack at the edge of the door.
The talkers were still guarded in their tones, and he could hear nothing.
He remained on his knees, however, and presently he heard a movement as of some one rising.
“This is getting infernally tiresome,” said a voice. “Gillman is slow in keeping his appointment.”
“Something has happened to detain him,” said another voice.
“Let’s go out and get a drink. Probably he’ll be here by the time we get back.”
“I’m with you, old man.”