"Police-station Number One, central," he said,--"through to Mr. French's
office, if you please. Mr. Quest wants to speak to him. Yes, Sanford
Quest. No need to get excited!... All right. I'm through, am I?... Hullo,
Inspector?"
A rare expression of joy suddenly transfigured Quest's face. He was gazing
downward into the little mirror.
"You've found Lenora, then, Inspector?" he exclaimed. "Bully for you!...
What do I mean? What I say! You forget that I am a scientific man, French.
No end of appliances here you haven't had time to look at. I can see you
sitting there, and Lenora and Laura looking as though you had them on the
rack. You can drop that, French. I've got Red Gallagher and his mate, got
them here with the Sheriff of Bethel. They went off with my auto and sold
it. We've got that. Also, in less than five minutes my chauffeur will be
here. He's been lying in a farmhouse, unconscious, since that scrap. He
can tell you what time he saw me last. Bring the girls along, French--and
hurry!"
Quest hung up the receiver.
"I've given Inspector French something to think about," he remarked, as he
turned away. "Now, Mr. Sheriff, if you can make yourself at home for a
quarter of an hour or so, French will be here and take these fellows off
your hands. I've still a little more telephoning to do."
"You go right ahead," the Sheriff acquiesced.
Quest rang up the Professor. His response to the call was a little
languid, and his reception of the news of Quest's successful enterprise
was almost querulous.
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