“Wait a moment, please.”
After some delay another voice, a large, important voice, repeated the question, and Carmel admitted a second time the identity of the paper.
“This,” said the voice, evidently impressed by the revelation it was making, “is Abner Fownes.”
“Yes,” said Carmel.
“Are you the young woman—Nupley’s niece?”
“I am.”
“Will you step over to my office at once, then. I want to see you?”
Carmel’s eyes twinkled and her brows lifted. “Abner Fownes,” she said. “The name has a masculine sound. Your voice is—distinctly masculine?”
“Eh?... What of it?”
“Why,” said Carmel, “the little book I studied in school says that when a gentleman wishes to see a lady he goes to her. I fear I should be thought forward if I called on you.”