He strode to the door, but his last command was disregarded. When he entered the reception hall Rhodes was behind him, still protesting, while Cliona and the strange girl brought up the rear.
“Ah, Mr. O’Hara!” And MacClellan’s rather heavy and stolid, countenance brightened as he beamed upon the advancing Irishman in a manner singularly cordial to be bestowed upon a murder-suspect. “I thought I might find you here. Quick work, eh? I suppose you’ve read all about it in the early afternoon editions?”
“No.” Colin favored his prospective captor with a morose stare. “I’d no notion they’d be having it—so early.”
“Oh, they got it at headquarters. We tried to phone out to Mr. Rhodes here, but they said you didn’t answer. Line out of order?”
“Not that I know of.” Rhodes was nervous. He was beco
