On the evening of the second day de Spain was invited to join the family at supper. In the evening the Jeffrieses went down-town.
De Spain was talking with Nan in the living-room when the telephone-bell rang in the library.
De Spain took the call, and a man’s voice answered his salutation. The speaker asked for Mr. de Spain and seemed particular to make sure of his identity.
“This,” repeated de Spain more than once, and somewhat testily, “is Henry de Spain speaking.”
“I’d like to have a little talk with you, Mr. de Spain.”
“Go ahead.”
“I don’t mean over the telephone. Could you make it convenient to come down-town somewhere, say to Tenison’s, any time this evening?”
The thought of a possible ambuscade deterred the listener less than the thought of leaving Nan, from whom he was unwilling to separate himself for a moment. Likewise, the possibility of an 373 attempt to kidnap her in his absence was not overlooked. On the other hand, if the message came from Duke and bore some suggestion of a compromise in the situation, de Spain was unwilling to lose it. With these considerations turning in his mind, he answered the man brusquely: “Who are you?”
The vein of sharpness in the question met with no deviation from the slow, even tone of the voice at the other end of the wire. “I am not in position to give you my name,” came the answer, “at least, not over the wire.”
A vague impression suddenly crossed de Spain’s mind that somewhere he had heard the voice before. “I can’t come down-town to-night,” returned de Spain abruptly. “If you’ll come to my office to-morrow morning at nine, I’ll talk with you.”