"I just wanted to ask you, George—" he was beginning in his soft, lily-of-the-valley voice, when the telephone on George's desk started ringing. George turned and reached for it, to find that Penny had already picked up the instrument.
"I'll answer it, George.... Hello... Mr. Remington is here, but is busy; I'll speak for him—I'm Mr. Evans.... What—it's you! Where are you?... Stay where you are; I'll come right over for you in my car."
"Who was that?" demanded George.
"Geneviève," Penny said rapidly, seizing his hat, "and I'm going——"
"So am I!" exclaimed George.
"Not till we've had a little understanding," sharply put in Doolittle, blocking his way.
"Stay here, George," his partner snapped out—"she's perfectly safe—just a little out of breath—telephoned from a drug store over in the Red-field district. I'll have her back here in fifteen minutes." And out Penny dashed, slamming the door.
But perhaps it was the straw-haired successor of Betty Sheridan who really prevented George from plunging after his partner.
"You ordered the Sentinel sent up as soon as it was out," she said. "Here are six copies."
George seized the ink-damp papers, and as the straw-haired one walked out in rubber-heeled silence he turned savagely upon his campaign manager.