‘Elbert Sartwell—’
‘Oh,—you’re—wait a moment, please!... Yes, Mr. Sartwell, you may call—’ the snappy tone had softened.
Elbert’s mind fumbled the number, but he got it down.... His second call was entered. A man’s tone advised him respectfully not to disconnect. Then out of the smothering stillness:
‘Hello?’
‘Mary Gertling!’
‘Yes.... Oh, I know ... and where are you?’
‘At the Santa Clara.’
‘Will you come over?’
‘Yes.’
‘Oh, wait! I know better. I’ll come for you! In the street in front of the hotel—in ten—fifteen minutes.’