He was considering these deductions when a tap came on the door.
Ronicky groaned. Had they come already to find out what kept the
senseless victim so long?

"Morgan, oh, Harry Morgan!" called a girl's voice.

Ronicky Doone started. Perhaps--who could tell--this might be Caroline
Smith herself, come to tap at the door when he was on the very verge
of abandoning the adventure. Suppose it were someone else?

If he ventured out expecting to find Gregg's lady and found instead
quite another person--well, women screamed at the slightest
provocation, and, if a woman screamed in this house, it seemed
exceedingly likely that she would rouse a number of men carrying just
such short-nosed, ugly automatics as that which he had just taken from
the pocket of Harry Morgan.

In the meantime he must answer something. He could not pretend that
the room was empty, for the light must be showing around the door.

"Harry!" called the voice of the girl again. "Do you hear me? Come
out! The chief wants you!" And she rattled the door.

Fear that she might open it and, stepping in, see the senseless figure
on the floor, alarmed Ronicky. He came close to the door.

"Well?" he demanded, keeping his voice deep, like the voice of Harry
Morgan, as well as he could remember it.