About three o’clock, only a half hour after he had been at Adams street, Strong was called to the telephone. He had been busy at a report, the call was unexpected and could only come from his secretary or from Ted, the only two besides Walker who knew of this new location.
It proved to be his secretary.
“A messenger boy came here a little while ago with a message for you,” she said.
“Read it.”
“‘A meeting is to be held at W.’s house. 61 If you will come, can get you in. 4:30!’ It is signed ‘J.’,” she added.
There was a pause. She continued: “It looks as if it comes from Jones. It is his writing, beyond doubt, but he signed his initial instead of his number.”
“I’ll come right over,” Strong answered, and his voice sounded perplexed.
Charles Jones was an operative, employed as a butler by the Winckel household. He had so often given proof of profound stupidity in everything except his duties in the household that Herr Winckel would have laughed at any suspicion of his being anything else but a butler. Herr Winckel was so fond of saying and repeating that the man had a butler mind it could never grasp anything outside of that.
In reality, Jones was shrewd, keen, able to obtain information without creating suspicion. He had been one of Strong’s best men and the latter felt he could count on him.
Could it be a trap, he wondered?