"Then don't be silly. You're Thistlethwaite. Or are you Abernethy?"
"Ve are not dose names," shouted the thick voice.
The line became dead, but Simon Templar was not discouraged. He had not expected to click at the first attempt. He dialled the number a second time and waited.
"Vell?"
"Oh, it's you again, is it?" said the Saint cheerfully. "Vell — I mean, well, that proves that you must be Thistlethwaite. Or else you're Abernethy. I damn well know I dialled the right number."
"Ve are not Thistle-vot-you-say und somebody," roared the thick voice, its owner clearly under the impression that he was dealing with a genial half-wit. "You got the wrong number again, you fool!"
"If you're Parliament 5577 you're Thistlethwaite and Abernethy," insisted the Saint. "Think I don't know?"
"Ve are Zeidelmann und Co.," bellowed the angry voice, "und ve know nothing of the peoples you say."
"Well I'm damned!" said Simon in surprise. "Then am I the bloke who's been making the mistake? A thousand apologies, dear old frankfurter. And the same to Co."
He hung up, and with his cigarette slanting dangerously out of the corner of his mouth he turned over the last few pages of Vol. II of the London Telephone Directory, which lay on a shelf. There was only one Zeidelmann & Co.; and the address was Bryerby House, Victoria.