Two blocks further along, however, on the corner
occupied by the Crescent saloon, he turned into the cross street, and
passed in through the saloon's side entrance. The Crescent saloon, as he
had previously more than once had occasion to remark, was nothing if not
thoughtful of the peculiar needs of its somewhat questionable class of
patrons. Around the corner of the little passageway, just as it turned
into a small lounging room before the barroom proper was reached, was a
telephone booth whose privacy could scarcely be improved upon. He opened
the door of the booth, stepped inside, and closed the door carefully and
tightly behind him. The _Argus_ being a morning paper, Carruthers,
except on very rare occasions, was always to be found at his office
until late into the night; but Jimmie Dale, having deposited his coin in
the slot, was rewarded with the information that he had met with one of
those "rare occasions." Carruthers was at his home on Long Island, and
had not been at the office at all that day. Jimmie Dale shrugged his
shoulders, as he found and gave the Long Island number. It did not
matter very much; it was simply the difference in time, amounting to,
say, the half hour or so that it would take Carruthers to get back to
the city and act.
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