Page:The Whisper on the Stair by Lyon Mearson (1924).djvu/123

 “Come in,” said Val, and he preceded the man into his apartment, peeling off his dresing robe as he did so.

“What’s the matter with Miss Pomeroy?” he asked.

The driver shook his head negatively. “Dunno, sir. I was cruisin’ around without no fare in me cab when I passed through her street. She called to me from the window and I come up. Then she told me to come to you and ask you to come at once. That’s all I know, sir. Said I was to say it was very important.”

“All right—be right with you,” snapped Val, going for his coat.

He slipped his automatic into his pocket for the second time that night.

“Might need it,” he muttered. He decided not to wake Eddie. He was tired and had done his share for that night. Probably he would not be necessary, anyway. Women get funny notions in the middle of the night, you know, and probably Jessica didn’t need him so badly as she thought she did. But he felt exhilarated just the same. He glowed all over with the thought, the feeling that she had instinctively turned to him when she needed assistance.

“Let’s go!” he snapped to the chauffeur.

A shabby taxi was waiting outside and the driver jumped for the wheel.

“Never mind the speed laws, young man,” directed Val. “Let ’er out.”

“Yes, sir,” replied the driver of the car, which with a coughing of her exhaust, shot into high at once.

Through the darkened streets they fled across town, leaving belated warfarers [sic] staring after them in aston-