"At the Marcus Groot Hotel. You'll be met at the train. For God's sake say you'll come."
"I can get the one o'clock," said Osterhout. "Good-bye."
Going over on the train he had time for scalding meditations. Mona in Trenton! At the Marcus Groot Hotel. When she was supposedly visiting the Barhams at their Philadelphia apartment. And all this atmosphere of secrecy thrown about it by the unknown man. But was he unknown? The voice had seemed dimly familiar to Osterhout. Surely, he had heard it before. Feverishly he mustered in his mind Mona's admirers, canvassed them over, vacillated between this and that one, and shook with a jealous and amazed rage which horrified while it tore at him, as Sidney Rathbone hurried up the platform to meet him. But in a moment he had mastered himself.
"Thank God, you're here!"
"How is she?"
"A good deal easier. She's been terribly ill."
"Heart?"
"Yes. She wouldn't let me call any local physician."
"When was she taken?" inquired Osterhout as he stepped into the waiting taxi.