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An instant later he was downstairs, and, selecting a soft slouch hat Jason for the moment not being in evidence went down the steps to his waiting limousine. "The Marleton, Benson," he directed, as he stepped into the car. "And hurry, please." The car started forward.
It was not far to 88th Street, but the car would save time and time was counting now, every minute of it priceless, if, as the Tocsin had intimated, he was to forestall the game that was in hand. The Marleton was for Benson's benefit but the Marleton, unless he had miscalculated the numbers, was barely more than a block away from the house he sought.
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