"And what is it that you wish?" the lady asked.
"An act of kindness," Deane answered, "for which I am willing to pay—to pay heavily. I am in search of a young lady who rang me up only an hour or so ago from this locality,—I believe from this house. I am offering a reward of two hundred pounds for any one who may help me in my search."
He raised his voice. He meant the servant, or the person who was posing as a servant, to hear him. He was unable to observe her closely, but he noticed that she moved a little nearer, and appeared to be listening intently.
"I am afraid that you have come to the wrong house," the lady answered gently. "This is not a very nice neighborhood, I know, but we are quite respectable people here, and we are not upon the telephone at all."
"Not on the telephone at all?" Deane repeated. "But I have your name and number from the telephone company,—number 0198—Mrs. Garvice!"
"Mrs. Garvice has left," the lady declared. "I have taken the house, but the telephone was of no use to me, so I have had it taken away."
"May I see the place where the instrument was?" Deane asked. "I have a particular reason for asking."
"Certainly not!" the lady answered, a little sharply. "Open the door, Hilda. We have nothing else to say to you, sir."
The maid obeyed, and Deane reluctantly took up his hat. He was already upon the threshold when he suddenly stopped. A remarkable change came over him. He stepped quickly back. The woman had gone as pale as death. From one of the rooms upstairs came the shrill, unmistakable summons of a telephone bell, and mingling with it the chiming of a cuckoo clock.
"Shut the door," Deane ordered sternly. "Madam," he said, turning towards the lady of the house, "it is still within your power to earn that two hundred pounds!"