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Updated: May 4, 2025
Although he had not taken the trouble to tell Bristow, he had already arranged with Golson to have the "extra man" on the job. He was taking no chances. He smiled when he thought of the sick man's eagerness to give him advice. It occurred to him that he should have communicated with George Withers. The funeral was over; had been set for yesterday.
He felt that he could encounter no obstacle too great for him to overcome. Failure could not touch him. He left the hotel and went to Golson's office. He had much to do in Baltimore and elsewhere. Hurrying to the station after a brief conference with Golson, he wondered why he had heard nothing from Withers. What was the matter with George anyhow?
What is it?" "Your man gave him the slip a quarter of an hour ago, and he wants " "Gave him the slip!" shouted Braceway. "What are you talking about?" "I don't like it any more than you do," snapped Golson. "But that's what happened: gave him the slip." "How?" "I didn't get that exactly. Delaney merely said he lost him in the hotel. Your man was evidently waiting there for a message or phone call.
Golson himself gave the information. "Delaney also caught it. They got to Baltimore at nine. Your man took a taxi straight to the shop of an old fellow named Eidstein, reaching there at twenty minutes past nine. He and Eidstein went into Eidstein's private office back of the shop and stayed there for over an hour, in fact until about half-past ten. Your man came out and went to a down-town hotel.
I know all about him." "That's funny, isn't it?" "What's funny?" "That he didn't go to a pawnshop." "Keep your shirt on," laughed Golson. "The day's not over yet." "No doubt about that. What about Corning, the loan-shark in Virginia?" "I've got a man over there, just as you asked. Shall I keep him on?" "Sure!" snapped Braceway.
He went to the telegraph desk and wrote out a message: "Mr. Frank Abrahamson, 329 College Street, Furmville, N. C. "Silence. "One-word telegrams!" he smiled grimly. "Thrifty fellows, these chosen people." He found the telephone booths and called up Golson. "Got anything from Baltimore?" he inquired. "Just been talking to Delaney on long-distance," Golson answered without enthusiasm. "Well!
"Oh, yes. Platt's always on the job. He and his partner, Delaney, generally deliver." "Who are they?" Bristow asked, interested. "How do they happen to be working for you?" "They belong to a private bureau here, Golson's. Golson and I have worked together before." In the elevator Bristow was thinking that the matter of becoming a professional detective was not as simple as it had appeared to him.
If he received it, Delaney was fooled. Anyway, he's gone now; and Delaney wants to know what he's to do. What'll I tell him?" "Tell him to go to hell!" Braceway said hotly. "No! Tell him to go back to Eidstein's and wait there until Morley shows up. That's his only chance to pick him up again." "O.K.," growled Golson. "Say!
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