"Lean back and make yourself comfortable," Quest invited, as he took a
chair opposite to her. "I must just look through these papers."
The girl did as she was told. She opened her coat. The room was
delightfully warm, almost overheated. A sense of rest crept over her. For
the first moment since the awful shock, her nerves seemed quieter.
Gradually she began to feel almost as though she were passing into sleep.
She started up, but sank back again almost immediately. She was conscious
that Quest had laid down the letters which he had been pretending to read.
His eyes were fixed upon her. There was a queer new look in them, a
strange new feeling creeping through her veins. Was she going to sleep?...
Quest's voice broke an unnatural silence.
"You are anxious to telephone some one," he said.
"You looked at both of the booths as we came through the hotel. Then you
remembered, I think, that he would not be there yet. Telephone now. The
telephone is at your right hand. You know the number."
She obeyed almost at once. She took the receiver from the instrument by
her side.
"Number 700, New York City."
"You will ask," Quest continued, "whether he is all right, whether the
jewels are safe."
There was a brief silence, then the girl's voice.
"Are you there, James?... Yes, I am Lenora. Are you safe? Have you the
jewels?... Where?... You are sure that you are safe.... No, nothing fresh
has happened."
"You are at the hotel," Quest said softly.
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