Then he stopped.
The papers the PRS had sent him....
And he’d gotten them so quickly, so efficiently....
They were a large organization....
And an old one....
He tossed the cigar in the general direction of the ashtray, grabbed the phone and jabbed at buttons.
The girl who answered the phone looked familiar. She did not look very old, but she was large and she had to be disguised, Malone thought. Nobody could naturally have that many teeth.
“Psychical Research Society,” she said. “Oh, Mr. Malone, good evening.”
“Sir Lewis,” Malone said. “Sir Lewis Carter. President. I want to talk to him. Hurry.”
“Sir Lewis?” the girl said slowly. “Oh, I’m sorry, Mr. Malone, but the office is closed now for the day. And Sir Lewis has gone already. It’s after six o’clock, Mr. Malone, and the office is closed.”