“I’ll tell them to get you on,” said Forsyth, opening the door.
“Here! Don’t leave me,” said Giles. “Don’t go away. Supposing she’s in?”
“Well, it’s not much good if she isn’t, is it?”
“D’you mind saying that again?” said Giles weakly. “I—I wasn’t ready. Besides, you can’t say ‘isn’t is it.’ It’s not euphonious. I—I say . . .”
But the lawyer was gone.
Outside his own door, Forsyth leaned against the wall and bowed before a paroxysm of laughter as a reed before the gale. Then he pulled himself together and sought the switchboard.
“Put my room through to Mr. Maple’s and ring them both up. Then plug me in. I want to overhear.”
“Very good, sir.”
After a moment’s interval—
“Er—er—hullo,” said Giles, wiping the sweat from his face. “Hullo.”