"That's it," the night manager interpellated; "a small incandescent lamp lights up, you know—that's the signal to Central."
"Very good. Proceed, Miss Carter."
"Well, before I had time to ask what number was wanted, I heard something that made me forget to ask at all; or at any rate, for a minute or so. I heard some one saying in a loud voice—" She hesitated and looked at Henty, uneasy under the piercing gaze with which the caller was insensibly regarding her.
Converse was leaning forward, an elbow upon one knee, the clenched fist of one hand supporting his chin. He was absolutely motionless, impassive, save for that wonderful look of the eyes, which played and scintillated like live fire.
Quite suddenly Mr. Henty realized the tenseness of the situation, the magnetism of the silent force which dominated them both.
"Go on, go on," he said, a trifle nervously. Dropping her glance to her thin clasped hands, Miss Carter did so.
"The voice said, 'You miserable hound! How dared you make this thing known to that—' then came a word that I failed to catch. Next the voice, still very loud and angry, said, 'Take that!' and two pistol shots followed in rapid succession. The whole thing happened in a second."
The ensuing silence was presently broken by Mr. Converse's sibilant voice, and it was obvious that the others were measurably relieved thereby.
"Did you then ask what number was wanted?" he inquired.
"No, sir," came the reply, in the same colorless, even tones. "It was so remarkable—I was so overcome—that I simply sat there listening."