He had finished his work by this time and now the evening wind was
blowing away the slight fumes that had arisen. For a few moments
he left our door into Whitney's room open, in order to insure
clearing away the odour. Then he quietly closed it, but did not
lock it again.
We waited a few minutes, then Craig leaned over to me. "I wish
you'd go down and see how near Whitney is through dinner," he
said. "If he is through, do something, anything to keep him down
there. Only be as careful as you can not to be seen by any one who
knows us."
I rode down in an empty elevator and cautiously made my way to the
dining-room. Whitney had finished much sooner than I had expected
and was not there. Much as I wanted not to be seen, I found that
it was necessary to make a tour of the hotel to find him and I did
so, wondering what expedient I would adopt to keep him down there
if I found him. I did not have to adopt any, however. Whitney was
almost alone in the writing-room, and a big pile of letters beside
him showed me that he would be busy for some time. I rode back to
the room to tell Craig, flattering myself that I had not been
seen.
"Good," he exclaimed. "I don't think we'll have to wait much
longer, if anything at all is going to happen.
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