“No. Roberts, her maid, said you were a friend—a mutual friend. Roberts tells me that your name is the only one she has ever heard spoken by Mr. Endicott in terms that would imply intimacy.”
“That’s right.”
“You and Mr. Endicott are intimate friends, are you not?”
“Pretty thick, Lieutenant. What is it you want me to do?”
“To sit with Mr. Endicott until he recovers consciousness. Dr. Worth is afraid that his heart will go back on him again if there isn’t someone he knows with him when he comes to. If you’ll be kind enough to come up, Dr. Worth will explain the whole peculiar affair to you much better than I can.”
“Why, of course. Yes. When?”
“As soon as convenient.”
“In about an hour? There are some things—”
“That will do perfectly. Thank you very much, Mr. Hollander. Goodbye.”
“Goodbye.”
Lieutenant Valcour hung up the receiver of the hall telephone he was using and walked to where he had left his coat and hat. He put them on and buttonholed O’Brian by the front door.
“O’Brian,” he said, “there’s a man coming here shortly by the name of Thomas Hollander. Have him identify himself by a visiting card, or a letter, or his driver’s licence, or initials on something or other. Give him a pat, too, in passing to make certain that he hasn’t got a gun. If it offends