"Parkins has escaped unless I am badly mistaken. Listen to this telegram from Montreal"—then followed the contents of the message in a voice of staccato precision.
"Now, go to it. No doubt about this fellow being Parkins, is there?"
"Not here," answered Bloss receiving a nod from Jackson.
"You're not going to fall down on this, boys. I'm confident of that. Don't tip it to the police until you hear from me. We may have to stall him for he would be a fool to walk into Grand Central—but cover it just the same. That train makes a stop at Buffalo, Syracuse, Rochester, Albany—and sometimes at Yonkers. Use long distance, on all those cities as he may stop off and change to Pullmans attached to trains from the west. Miss Johnson was to be absent to-day but I think I'll call her anyhow. Then she will know what is going on. So long—don't get rattled—keep your noodles working—and get this man! I'll be down soon," growled the big fellow, as he hung up the receiver and set the shower going.
A little later on Mary Johnson, with a smile of anticipation, answered a ring from the telephone bell. She was sure it was Updyke, and with a laugh at his nerve for rousing her out of bed on her first day off, she finally answered the call.
"I just knew it was you," said she—"now, what about my beauty sleep!" she exclaimed, with a laugh. "I wanted to look pretty to-night."
"Everything is off for to-night," replied Updyke, manlike, not stopping to think how jarring were the words he had spoken.
Mary Johnson, unnerved, awaiting further explanation.
"Did you get that?" he asked, with equal abruptness.
"Oh, quite so!—my little dream won't come true," said she, in a queer small voice that brought Updyke back to earth in a hurry.