I cut in ahead of Barbara's objections to
this plan. "I ought to be there this minute. We'll have a tray in from a
little joint that feeds me when I'm too busy to go out for grub."

I took them straight into my private office at the end of the suite.

"Make yourself comfortable," I said to Miss Wallace. "Better let me lock
up that suitcase, Worth; stick it in the vault. That's evidence."

"I'll hang on to it." He grinned. "You can keep the rope and hook. This
has got another use before it can be evidence."

Not even delaying to remove my coat, I laid a heavy finger on the
buzzer button for Roberts, my secretary; then as nothing resulted, I
played music on the other signal tips beneath the desk lid. It was
Sunday, also luncheon hour, but there must be some one about the place.
It never was left entirely empty.

My fugue work brought little Pete, and Murray, one of the men from the
operatives' room.

"Where's Roberts?" I asked the latter.

"He went to lunch, Mr. Boyne."

"Where's Foster?" Foster was chief operative.

"He telephoned in from Redwood City half an hour ago. Chasing a Clayte
clue down the peninsula."

"If he calls up again, tell him to report in at once. Is there a
stenographer about?"

"Not a one; Sunday, you know."

"Can you take dictation?"

"Me? Why, no, sir."

"Then dig me somebody who can. And rush it. I've--"

"Perhaps I might help." It was little Miss Wallace who spoke; about the
first cheerful word I'd heard out of her since we found that suitcase on
the roof of the Gold Nugget. "I can take on the machine fairly."

"Fine!" I tossed my coat on the big center table. "Murray, send Roberts
to me as soon as he comes in. You take number two trunk line, and find
two of the staff--quick; any two. Shoot them to the Gold Nugget Hotel."
I explained the situation in a word. Then, as he was closing the door,
"Keep off Number One trunk, Murray; I'll be using that line," and I
turned to little Pete.

"Get lunch for three," I said, handing him a bill. From his first glance
at Barbara one could have seen that the monkey was hers truly, as they
say at the end of letters. I knew as he bolted out that he felt
something very special ought to be dug up for such a visitor.

The girl had shed coat and hat and was already fingering the keys of the
typewriter, trying their touch. I saw at once she knew her business, and
I turned to the work at hand with satisfaction.

"You'll find telegram blanks there