It was the thought of the telephone that had come to me with such force on the preceding evening. I knew now that it was not necessary to keep up this terrible waiting for him. It would be easy enough to call him up; then I could go to him and still feel that I was not leaving Heloise at the mercy of a chance visit from him while I was away.
It took a long time for them to get him to the telephone, over there at the Wagon-lits—fifteen or twenty minutes, I should say.
Finally I heard his voice.
“How are you, Eckhart?” he said, in the easy, offhand way that men employ one with another. “How have you been?”
I thanked God, under my breath, that he was in condition to talk. I simply could not have endured further delay.
“I've been all right,” said I. “I want to see you, Crocker, in regard to a very important matter.”
“Surely. Any time you say.”
“Suppose I come right over there to the Wagon-lits.”
“All right. I'll wait for you in my room. Good-by.”
“Good-by, Crocker.”