“That you, Randall? Has Armstrong been at your place to-night? You haven’t seen him at all to-day, then. No; nothing. Just wanted to know, that was all. Good-night.”
Another half-hour passed; then, without pausing in his work, Roberts pulled the buzzer lever 270 for a messenger. When the latter appeared he scribbled a few lines on a sheet of paper, addressed an envelope, and gave it to the boy with half a dollar.
“There’s a mate to that coin waiting here for you if you can get me an answer within half an hour,” he said. “You know the party, don’t you?”
“Sure. Yes, sir.”
“Follow up the trail, then. You’ve lost one minute of your thirty already.”
For the third time he returned to his work, halting only when the messenger in blue returned.
“Can’t deliver it, sir,” explained the latter curtly. “I’ve been all over town and no one has seen him. Thank you, sir. Good-night.”
For several minutes this time Darley Roberts sat in his desk chair thinking, quite motionless. The clock on the wall recorded midnight and he compared the time with his watch to make certain of its accuracy. Once more he took down the telephone receiver.
“This you, Elice?” he asked after a moment. “Can I be of service? Never mind, no need to explain. I understand. I’ll be right up.”
In spite of the city speed limit the big red 271 car made those twelve blocks intervening in sixty-four seconds flat.