Mr. Royce sprang out, paid the
driver, and ran up the steps to the door, I after him. He turned down
the corridor to the right, and entered the room at the end of it,
which I recognized as the office of Coroner Goldberg. A considerable
crowd had already collected there.
"Has the coroner arrived yet?" my companion asked one of the clerks.
"Yes, sir; he's in his private office."
"Will you take him this card and say that I'd like to see him at once,
if possible?"
The clerk hurried away with the card. He was back again in a moment.
"This way, sir," he called.
We followed him across the room and through a door at the farther
side.
"Ah, Mr. Royce, glad to see you," cried the coroner, as we entered.
"We tried to find you last night, but learned that you were out of
town, and I was just calling up your office again."
"Miss Holladay asked for me, then?"
"Yes, at once. When we found we couldn't get you, we suggested your
senior, but she said she'd wait till you returned."
I could see our junior's face crimson with pleasure.
"You didn't think it necessary to confine her, I trust?" he asked.
"Oh, no; she wasn't disturbed. She spent the night at home--under
surveillance."
"That was right. Of course, it's simply absurd to suspect her."
Goldberg looked at him curiously.
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