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Words: 58749 in 30 pages
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THE VOICE ON THE WIRE
"Mr. Shirley is waiting for you in the grill-room, sir. Just step this way, sir, and down the stairs."
The large man awkwardly followed the servant to the cosey grill-room on the lower floor of the club house. He felt that every man of the little groups about the Flemish tables must be saying: "What's he doing here?"
"I wish Monty Shirley would meet me once in a while in the back room of a ginmill, where I'd feel comfortable," muttered the unhappy visitor. "This joint is too classy. But that's his game to play--"
He was greeted with a grip that made even his generous hand wince, as the other arose to smile a welcome.
"Hello, Captain Cronin. You're a good sight for a grouchy man's eyes! Sit down and confide the brand of your particular favorite poison to our Japanese Dionysius!"
The Captain sighed with relief, as he obeyed.
"Bar whiskey is good enough for an old timer like me. Don't tell me you have the blues--your face isn't built that way!"
"Gospel truth, Captain. I've been loafing around this club--nothing to do for a month. Bridge, handball, highballs, and yarns! I'm actually a nervous wreck because my nerves haven't had any work to do!"
"You're the healthiest invalid I've seen since the hospital days in the Civil War. But don't worry about something to do. I've some job now. It's dolled up with all them frills you like: millions, murders and mysteries! If this don't keep you awake, you'll have nightmares for the next six months. Do you want it?"
"I'm tickled to death. Spill it!"
"Monty, it's the greatest case my detective agency has had since I left the police force eleven years ago. It's too big for me, and I've come to you to do a stunt as is a stunt. You will plug it for me, won't you--just as you've always done? If I get the credit, it'll mean a fortune to me in the advertising alone."
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