Answer it. Answer it, darling!
He reached for it in the darkness. This time he strained harder than ever. This time he reached it. He had to. He had to know. No matter what happened he had to know. It was driving him crazy. Surely such a torture must have an end.
He made it. His hand grasped the telephone and held on to it grimly. He put it to his ear in triumph.
"Hello?" he told it. "Hello!"
Silence. The room was a cup of black silence.
"Hello!" he shouted. "Who is this? Tell me who this is!"
There was a low wisp of laughter. It might have been the instrument, or it might have come from Lisa's tiny ghost, still perched on his earlobe.
"Who is it?" he demanded.
"Central office," answered a voice like the largest pipe in a church organ. "Satan speaking."