"And meanwhile," he expostulated, "we're sitting here with our hands in our laps--useless--and Ismay, as like 's not, is--" He broke into profanity, trotting up and down and twisting his small hands together. "I wish," said Staff, "I knew what makes you act this way. Ismay can't saddle you with a crime committed by him when you're in my company--" "You don't know him," interpolated Iff. "And you surely can't be stirred so deeply by simple solicitude for Miss Searle." "Oh, can't I? And how do you know I can't?" barked the little man. "Gwan--leave me alone! I want to think." "Best wishes," Staff told him pleasantly. "I'm going to change my clothes." "Symptoms of intelligence," grunted Iff. "I was wondering when you'd wake up to the incongruity of knight-erranting it after damsels in distress in an open-faced get-up like that." "It's done, however," argued Staff good-humouredly. "It's class, if the illustrators are to be believed. Don't you ever read modern fiction? In emergencies like these the hero always takes a cold bath and changes his clothes before sallying forth to put a crimp in the villain's plans. Just the same as me. Only I'm going to shed evening dress instead of--" "Good heavens, man!" snorted Iff. "Are you in training for a monologist's job? If so--if not--anyway--can it! Can the extemporaneous stuff!" The telephone bell silenced whatever retort Staff may have contemplated. Both men jumped for the desk, but Staff got there first. "Hello?" he cried, receiver at ear. "Yes? Hello?" But instead of the masculine accents of the exchange-manager he heard, for the third time that night, the voice of Miss Searle. "Yes," he replied almost breathlessly--"it is I, Miss Searle. Thank Heaven you called up! I've been worrying silly--" "We were cut off," the girl's voice responded. He noted, subconsciously, that she was speaking slowly and carefully, as if with effort.... "Cut off," she repeated as by rote, "and I had trouble getting you again." "Then you're--you're all right?" "Quite, thank you. I had an unpleasant experience trying to get to you by taxicab. The motor broke down coming through Central Park, and I had to walk home and lost my way. But I am all right now--just tired out." "I'm sorry," he said sincerely. "It's too bad; I was quite ready to call for the--you understand--and save you the trouble of the trip down here. But I'm glad you've had no more unpleasant adventure." "The necklace is safe," the girl's voice told him with the same deadly precision of utterance. "Oh, yes; I assumed that. And I may call for it?" "If you please--today at noon. I am so tired I am afraid I shan't get up before noon." "That'll be quite convenient to me, thank you," he assured her. "But where are you stopping?" There fell a brief pause. Then she said something indistinguishable. "Yes?" he said. "Beg pardon--I didn't get that. A little louder please, Miss Searle." "The St. Regis." "Where?" he repeated in surprise.