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Updated: June 10, 2025
Rumson called up that restaurant and had Wharton come to the phone. He asked his chief to wait until a letter he believed to be of great importance was delivered to him. He explained, but, of necessity, somewhat sketchily. "It sounds to me," commented his chief, "like a plot of yours to get a lunch up-town." "Invitation!" cried Rumson. "I'll be with you in ten minutes."
"Those are the electric lights along the ocean drive at Long Branch and up the Rumson Road, and those two stars a little higher up are fixed to the mast-heads of the Scotland Lightship. And that mass of light that you think is the Milky Way, is the glare of the New York street lamps thrown up against the sky." "Are we so near as that?" said Hope, smiling.
Several of the "musical" men notably Richardson of Elberon had plenty of money; Stanley, stopping with his cousins, the Frasers, on the Rumson Road, brought several of his friends, all rich and more or less free.
I can't electrocute a clew!" So when, after all other efforts, over the telephone a strange voice offered to deliver the murderer, Rumson was skeptical. He motioned the girl to switch to the desk telephone. "Assistant District Attorney Rumson speaking," he said. "What can I do for you?" Before the answer came, as though the speaker were choosing his words, there was a pause.
In a passion she cried: "If he would only stay away!" BUT he did not stay away. He owned and lived in a small house up on the Rumson Road.
It tells" the voice broke with an oath and instantly began again: "I can't talk over a phone. I tell you, it's life or death. If you lose out, it's your own fault. Where can I find Wharton?" "At Delmonico's," answered Rumson. "He'll be there until two o'clock." "Delmonico's! That's Forty-fort Street?" "Right," said Rumson. "Tell the messenger " He heard the receiver slam upon the hook.
It lasted so long that Rumson exclaimed sharply: "Hello," he called. "Do you want to speak to me, or do you want to speak to me?" "I've gotta letter for the district attorney," said the voice. "I'm to give it to nobody but him. It's about Banf. He must get it quick, or it'll be too late." "Who are you?" demanded Rumson. "Where are you speaking from?"
Tell them you're going to Ida Earle's and why tell them you're afraid it's a frame-up, and for them to keep your notes as evidence. And enclose the one from her." Wharton nodded in approval, and, while he wrote, Rumson and the detective planned how, without those inside the road-house being aware of their presence, they might be near it. Kessler's Cafe lay in the Seventy-ninth Police Precinct.
As Wharton's chauffeur he now doubled the parts. "What Nolan testified wouldn't be any help," said Wharton. "They would say it was just a story he invented to save me." "Then square yourself this way," urged Rumson. "Send a note now by hand to Ham Cutler and one to your sister.
It tells " the voice broke with an oath and instantly began again: "I can't talk over a phone. I tell you, it's life or death. If you lose out, it's your own fault. Where can I find Wharton?" "At Delmonico's," answered Rumson. "He'll be there until two o'clock." "Delmonico's! That's Forty-fort Street?" "Right," said Rumson. "Tell the messenger " He heard the receiver slam upon the hook.
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