"And Miss Carter, I take it, heard something unusual last night—must have, to hold her attention, eh? Now, I want to see the young lady that answers night calls coming in on Main two-one-two-four."
"Operator Twenty-two," said Henty. "That's Miss Carter, all right. I'm night manager, Captain, and—" he hesitated, "er—our strictest rule—"
"You need not fear that I will divulge any matter that may be repeated to me," suggested Converse, seeing the young man's quandary. "But if you anticipate any ill results from what you or the young lady may say, I can assure you it will be all right with your general manager. Mr. Patterson and I have a little unwritten agreement covering contingencies of this kind."
In the end the young man departed from the room, returning presently with a young woman.
"This is Miss Carter," said he by way of introduction. "Miss Carter, Captain Converse."
She proved to be very fragile appearing, very blonde, very small and slender, and, moreover, very tired and uninterested.
"Captain Converse has called in regard to what you heard last night—you know, Miss Carter. It will be proper—perfectly—to repeat it."
She directed her faded blue eyes to the officer and began at once to speak in a quiet, colorless little voice, as if the matter were of the commonest every-day occurrence—a familiar part of her regular routine.
"About midnight last night, the signal-lamp of Main two-one-two-four—"
"Signal-lamp?" Converse queried, vaguely; "you mean the signal indicating that some one had taken down the receiver?"