"Are you sure?"
"Pretty sure. At any rate, it's worth tipping off headquarters. Where's there a telephone?"
"There's a drug store just across the street, Christopher. But hold on! What do you mean to do?"
The Scotchman's mind was at best a slow-moving machine, and now it appeared to be too stunned to move at all. Sensing that explanation and argument would delay him, Christopher dashed ahead, the clockmaker panting at his heels.
Fortunately he knew the number, for he had talked with the inspector before. Fortunately, too, he had a nickel in his pocket. Therefore he called headquarters, admonishing the operator to make haste.
A second later a reply came singing over the wire.
"Is Mr. Corrigan, the inspector, there?"
"Just gone out."
"Is Davis, his assistant, in?"
"Yes, sir."