CHAPTER 13: PENN SERVICE
THEIR day had been so fully occupied that none of the three had found time to seek that purveyor of plentiful information, the newspaper. Indeed, now that he thought of it, Drayton could not recall having seen any newsboy or news stands, and on consulting his friends they, too, denied any such memory. Yet that papers were still published in the city was certain. Mercy had carried one in the golden Court of Justice. Bertram had accounted for his knowledge of the date by reference to a "borrowed" newspaper.
Drayton went to the house phone and made his request. Something seemed wrong with the wire. While he could perfectly hear the girl at the other end, that young lady appeared unable to catch his meaning. Suddenly she cut him off, and though he snapped the receiver hook impatiently, it produced no further response.
"Ring for a boy, Bobby," suggested Trenmore. As he said it, however, there came a rapping at the door. Trenmore opened it and there stood a dignified gentleman who bowed courteously and stepped inside.
"I am the assistant manager," he explained. "There was some trouble over the phone just now. The management desires, of course, that guests of Penn Service shall receive every attention. What were you trying to make that stupid operator understand?"
"Nothing very difficult," smiled Drayton. "I asked for an evening paper."
"I beg your pardon. A-what?"
"A paper-a newspaper," retorted the lawyer impatiently. "But, my dear sir! Surely you can't mean to make such an extraordinary request! Or-perhaps you have a special permit?"
A dazed silence ensued. "Are you telling me," burst forth Terence, "that in this God-forsaken place you need a permit to read the news of the day?"
"Every one knows," protested the manager placatingly, "that only Servants or their families are permitted to read the newspaper issued for their benefit."