"Just one thing more—tell me where he's taking her," begged Villard.
"What's the use? He won't get her there?"
"Tell me anyhow—I'm stronger when I know the worst," pleaded Villard.
Updyke hesitated. He loathed the thought of letting his friend know the truth. But finally, in a rasping voice, almost choking with the rage that he had been trying to conceal, Updyke replied:
"Well, if you must know, the car started for Herman's Road House—otherwise known as 'The Mad House.'"
With that Updyke threw his receiver on the hook, and asked his switch-board operator for the call next in line—but he was more than furious with himself for having yielded to Villard's entreaty.
CHAPTER XI. MARY JOHNSON
"No news" reports coming in from operatives, and new instructions going out from "the old man" himself, was the routine of Updyke's office for the next hour. Mary Johnson, his secretary, of only a few months' experience, came timidly over to his desk and asked if he had looked over the Parkins record during the past month or so.