There was a clue to his hand in that bag, of course, but by this act
she had for ever removed from him the right to investigate _that_.
If he could only find that cabby.
Perhaps if he tried at the Madison Square rank, immediately....
Besides, it was clearly his duty not to remain in the flat alone with
the jewels another night. There was but one attainable place of safety
for them; and that the safe of a reputable hotel. He would return to
the Bartholdi at once, merely pausing on his way to inquire of the
cabmen if they could send their brother-nighthawk to him.
Maitland shook himself into his topcoat, jammed hat upon head, dropped
the jewels into one pocket, the cigarette case into another, and--on
impulse--Anisty's revolver, with its two unexploded cartridges, into a
third; and pressed the call button for O'Hagan, not waiting, however,
for that worthy to climb the stairs, but meeting him in the entry hall.
"I'm going back to the Bartholdi, O'Hagan, for the night. You may bring
me my letters and any messages in the morning. I should like you to
sleep in the flat to-night and answer any telephone calls."
"Yiss, Misther Maitland, sor."
"Have the police gone, O'Hagan?"
"There's a whole bottle full yet, sor."
"You've not been drinking, I trust?"