Craig had evidently prepared to break the news gently to her, but, as nearly as I could make out, it was not necessary. She had already heard what had happened.
“No,” I heard him say, as if in answer to an anxious question from her. “He is seriously hurt, to be sure, but the doctor says that with proper nursing he will pull through.”
I did not hear the reply, of course, but I recognized the appeal hidden in Kennedy’s answer, as he waited.
“Just a moment,” I heard him say next.
His forehead wrinkled as he listened to something, evidently trying to make it out. Then he said, suddenly: “I think I had better say no more over the telephone, Miss Walcott. Some one is listening to us.”
An angry look flashed over his face, but his voice showed no anger as he said good-by and hung up.
“What was it?” I asked. “What did she do?”
“It wasn’t Miss Walcott,” he replied, scowling. “You heard me say that some one was listening? Well, just as I said it there came a laugh over the wire from somewhere, and a voice cut in, ‘Yes, there is some one listening. You haven’t caught me yet, Kennedy—and you won’t.’ I said good-by after that. Oh, have no fear about Miss Walcott.”
Kennedy was right. It seemed an incredibly short time when there came a light tap on the door and he sprang to open it.
“Can I—be of any assistance?” pleaded a softly tremulous voice. “Perhaps I—could play at nursing?”