Page:Glitter (1926).pdf/133

"No, local," said Ken. "Sounds like your friend, Mrs. Hathaway. Whoever it is, she's lucky to get you. If I hadn't been boning late and decided to hop down to the kitchen for a bite to eat before I hit the hay nobody'd ever have heard that 'phone. Going back now and finish, too," he added.

They went down the stairs together, and Jock picked up the receiver he found dangling by its cord. "Hello?"

"Jock, is this you?" Eunice, frightened. . . .

"Yes, hello, Eunice."

"Listen, can you come ovah heah right away?"

"Why, what's up?"

"Brad's gone somewheah, and he said he'd be back at nine o'clock, and I don't know what to do——"

"He's not there?"

"No, he's nevah come. I'm worried sick about him."

"Where did he go?"

"I don't know, he didn't say. He just said he had to go out but that he'd be back by nine sharp. He went about six-thirty. He took my cah, and he hasn't driven it much yet, and oh, Jock, I'm scahed half to death. I—I didn't know who else to call. Can't you come ovah, or do somethin'?"

Her evident panic communicated itself in a measure to Jock. That Black-and-Tan joint—supposing Brad was there again? Things were always happening in places like that. Sinister things. If Brad had promised to return at nine, wouldn't he have done so, or at least sent some message? Brad had always been that sort, a man of his word absolutely. . . . And again, if he had taken the new car, and wasn't used to it . . . slippery out, damn slippery . . . this January ice. . . .