“He’s the lad that’s in a position to do it,” murmured Vance.
“But, Mr. Markham,” said Heath, who still sat with his hand on the telephone, gazing at the instrument with dazed incredulity, “I don’t see why you don’t have him brought here to-day.”
“As you heard, Sergeant, Skeel insisted on to-morrow, and threatened to say nothing if I forced the issue. It’s just as well not to antagonize him. We might spoil a good chance of getting some light on this case if I ordered him brought here and used pressure. And to-morrow suits me. It’ll be quiet around here then. Moreover, your man’s watching Skeel, and he won’t get away.”
“I guess you’re right, sir. The Dude’s touchy, and he can give a swell imitation of an oyster when he feels like it.” The Sergeant spoke with feeling.
“I’ll have Swacker here to-morrow to take down his statement,” Markham went on; “and you’d better put one of your men on the elevator,—the regular operator is off Sundays. Also, plant a man in the hall outside, and put another one in Swacker’s office.”
Vance stretched himself luxuriously and rose.
“Most considerate of the gentleman to call up at this time, don’t y’ know. I had a longing to see the Monets at Durand-Ruel’s this afternoon, and I was afraid I wasn’t going to be able to drag myself away from this fascinatin’ case. Now that the apocalypse has been definitely scheduled for to-morrow, I’ll indulge my taste for Impressionism. . . . À demain, Markham. By-bye, Sergeant.”
CHAPTER XXIII.
The Ten O’Clock Appointment
(Sunday, September 16; 10 a. m.)
A fine drizzle was falling the next morning when we rose; and a chill—the first forerunner of winter—was in the air. We had breakfast in the library at half past eight, and at nine o’clock Vance’s car—which had been ordered the night before—called for us. We rode down Fifth Avenue, now almost deserted in its thick blanket of yellow fog, and called for Markham at his apartment in West 12th Street. He was waiting for us in front of the house, and stepped quickly into the car with scarcely a word of greeting. From his anxious, preoccupied look I knew that he was depending a good deal on what Skeel had to tell him.