An office boy tapped on the door and entered. "Mr. Brainard wants you, Miss Dunlap."
"I cannot explain now," resumed Constance. "Won't you sit here at my desk and listen over the microphone to what happens!"
She was gone before Mrs. Brainard could reply. What did it all mean? Sybil put the black disc receiver to her ear as she had seen Constance do. Her hand trembled. "Why did she tell me that?" she murmured.
"You can't prove it," shouted a voice through the black disc at her ear. She was startled. It was the voice of Worthington.
"Miss Dunlap—have you that notebook?" came the deep tones of her husband.
Constance read from her first notes that part relating to the conspiracy to control Motors, carefully omitting the part about the Leblanc letters.
"It's a lie—a lie."
"No, it is not a lie. It is all good legal evidence, the record taken over the new microphone detective. Look up there over the chandelier, Worthington. The other end is in the top drawer of Miss Dunlap's desk."
"I'll fight that to a finish, Brainard. You are clever but there are other things besides Motors that you have to answer for."
"No. Those letters—that is what you mean—are in my possession now. You didn't know that? All the eavesdropping, if you choose to call it that, was not done here, either, by a long shot, Worthington. I had one of these machines in my wife's reception room. I have all sorts of little scraps of conversation," he boasted. "I also have an account of a visit there from two—er—scoundrels—"