nd at that moment the telephone rang again. Mort looked at Mike. Mike looked at Mort. Both wet their lips.
"Ordinary days that joker might be funny," Mort said. "But now I'm thinking this isn't an ordinary day. I'm thinking it's not as funny as I first thought."
He crossed to the telephone booth, jerked the receiver from the hook, and bellowed into the mouthpiece.
"Hello!"
There was a brief pause in which someone said something to him from the other end of the wire.
"Listen!" Mort suddenly exploded. "Nothing is funny three times, wise guy. I wish you would take your Hitler-Mussolini gag and—" at which point he described what he wanted the caller to do with the gag. Then, slamming the receiver back into the hook, Mort stormed out of the booth.
"Same guy?" Mike demanded, his veins bulging in his thick, freckled neck.
"Same guy," Mort said grimly. His lips were tight. "He asked if we could get Hitler and Musso to the phone in a hurry. He said the connection was getting weaker and weaker, and he was afraid it wouldn't hold out much longer."
"The connection?" I broke in, puzzled.
Mort looked on the verge of apoplexy. "The connection from where he was calling to earth, the wise guy said!" he exploded. "If we could only trace that call I'd break that no-good's neck!"