“Come down quick! It’s me—Elmer Gantry. I need you, bad!”
“All right. Be right down.”
A grotesque little figure in an old-fashioned nightshirt, puffing at a cigar, Rigg admitted him and led him to the library.
“T. J., they’ve got me!”
“Yuh? The bootleggers?”
“No. Hettie. You know my secretary?”
“Oh. Yuh. I see. Been pretty friendly with her?”
Elmer told everything.
“All right,” said Rigg. “I’ll be there at twelve to meet Oscar with you. We’ll stall for time, and I’ll do something. Don’t worry, Elmer. And look here. Elmer, don’t you think that even a preacher ought to try to go straight?”
“I’ve learned my lesson, T. J.! I swear this is the last time I’ll ever step out, even look at a girl. God, you’ve been a good friend to me, old man!”