CHAPTER XXXIII
BROMFIELD MAKES AN OFFER
A youth with a face like a fox sidled up to Durand in the hotel lobby and whispered in his ear. Jerry nodded curtly, and the man slipped away as furtively as he had come.
Presently the ex-prize-fighter got up, sauntered to the street, and hailed a taxi. Twenty minutes later he paid the driver, turned a corner, and passed into an apartment house for bachelors. He took the elevator to the third floor and rang an electric bell at a door which carried the name "Mr. Clarendon Bromfield."
From the man who came to the door Mr. Bromfield's visitor learned that he was not well and could receive no callers.
"Just mention the Omnium Club, and say I'm here on very important business," said Jerry with a sour grin.
The reference served as a password. Jerry was admitted to meet a host quite unable to control his alarm. At sight of his visitor Bromfield jumped up angrily. As soon as his man had gone he broke out in a subdued scream.
"You rotten traitor! Get out of my room, or I'll call the police."
Durand found a comfortable chair, drew a case from his pocket, and selected a cigar. He grinned with evil mirth.
"You will, eh? Like hell you will. You're hidin' from the cops this blessed minute. I've just found out myself where you live."