"It's pretty bad, isn't it? But there's no use crying over spilt milk. Lester," he added, in another tone, "I want you to be in your office at noon to-morrow—or rather, to-day."
"All right," I promised; "I'll be there."
"Don't fail me. There is one act of the comedy still to be played."
"I'll be there," I said again. "But I'm afraid the last act will be an anti-climax. Look here, Godfrey…."
"Now go to bed," he broke in; "you're talking like a somnambulist.
Get some sleep. Have you arranged for that vacation?"
"Godfrey," I said, "tell me…."
"I won't tell you anything. Only I've got one more bomb to explode,
Lester, and it's a big one. It will make you jump!"
I could hear him chuckling to himself.
"Good-night," he said, and hung up.