"Good morning, Nebula. Answer please."
Mechanically Jimmy's fingers found the transmitting button and clicked it over. But he stood out of range of the vision screen as he replied, "Who's speaking?"
The feminine voice, sweet and musical, laughed gaily. "I'm sorry I can't tell you that. You may call me Andromeda, if you will. Now listen closely, Jimmy Starr. I know your secret. I know that you live a dual life, that you are that much sought after gentleman cracksman, the Nebula."
The voice laughed again, but there was no mockery in it. "You needn't be afraid, Jimmy, I'm not going to let the cat out of the bag. But I will, unless you agree to follow my orders. Is that clear?"
For a long moment Jimmy stood there in silence.
"Never mind," the voice continued, "I didn't expect you to admit it. But listen. The Nebula is no longer a champion of the poor. In the eyes of the press and the police, he has committed murder. I know that you are innocent of that charge. It is now eight-thirty. In exactly fifteen hours you will go to the central offices of the Crater City Trust Company at Ninth and Planet. You will enter in any way you see fit, open the vault and take from the compartment marked W-203 the three articles it contains. Do you understand? Compartment W-203."
There was a click and the visiphone was silent.
Frantically Jimmy twisted the control switch on and off. "Hello," he said, "hello!"
He turned slowly to face the looking glass on the opposite wall mirrored the sudden haggardness that had entered his features. In half an hour his entire world had crashed. His identity was known. He was wanted for a foul crime.