"If I tell you," parried Rumson, "will you bring the letter at once?"
The voice exclaimed indignantly:
"Bring nothing! I'll send it by district messenger. You're wasting time trying to reach me. It's the letter you want. It tells"—the voice broke with an oath and instantly began again: "I can't talk over a phone. I tell you, it's life or death. If you lose out, it's your own fault. Where can I find Wharton?"
"At Delmonico's," answered Rumson. "He'll be there until two o'clock."
"Delmonico's! That's Forty-fort Street?"
"Right," said Rumson. "Tell the messenger—"
He heard the receiver slam upon the hook.
With the light of the hunter in his eyes, he turned to the girl.
"They can laugh," he cried, "but I believe we've hooked something. I'm going after it."
In the waiting-room he found the detectives.