There was a perceptible pause before the answer came.

"With him?" She could feel his terror throbbing over the wire. Though
she could not see him, she knew her question had stricken him white.
"With him where?"

"At this gambling-house--Maddock's?"

"No, I--I--Bee, I tell you I'm ill."

"He went out last night to join you at your club. I know that. When
did you see him last?"

"I--we didn't--he didn't come."

"Then didn't you see him at all?"

There was another pause, significant and telling, followed by a
quavering "No-o."

"Clary, I want to see you--right away."

"I'm ill, I tell you--can't leave my bed." He gave a groan too genuine
to doubt.

Beatrice hung up the receiver. Her eyes sparked. For all her
slimness, she looked both competent and dangerous.

"What does he say?" her father asked.