Tarling had opened his mouth to say something, when a telephone bell shrilled, and he picked up the instrument from the table on which it stood.
It was a strange voice that greeted him, a voice husky and loud, as though it were unused to telephoning.
"Tarling the name?" shouted the voice quickly.
"That is my name," said Tarling.
"She's a friend of yours, ain't she?" asked the voice.
There was a chuckle. A cold shiver ran down Tarling's spine; for, though he had never met the man, instinct told him that he was speaking to Sam Stay.
"You'll find her to-morrow," screamed the voice, "what's left of her. The woman who lured him on ... what's left of her...."
There was a click, and the receiver was hung up.
Tarling was working the telephone hook like a madman.
"What exchange was that?" he asked, and the operator after a moment supplied the information that it was Hampstead.