“She’s gone to the Ritz,” repeated the agent. “No one else has come out. And I began to worry—hearing nothing of you, Mr. Recklow. So I stepped in to see——”
“You say that Mrs. Cleves went out of the house we entered, got into the coupé, and told the driver to go to the Ritz?” demanded Cleves, astounded.
“Yes, sir.”
“Where is that coupé? Did it return?”
“It had not returned when I came in here.”
“Go back and look for it. Look in the other street,” said Recklow sharply.
The agent hurried away over the creaking boards. The four men gazed at one another.
“The thing to do is to obey her and stay where we are,” said Recklow grimly. “Who knows what peril we may cause her if we move from——”
His words froze on his lips as Tressa’s voice rang out from the darkness beyond the door they were guarding:
“Victor I I—I need you! Come to me, my husband!”