The voice at the other end of the telephone inquired cautiously if that were Mr. Masefield. Jack replied that it was, but even then the questioner did not appear to be satisfied.
"I think I recognize your voice," he said, "but one has to be very careful in sending messages to Panton Square. How goes the music? Anything original to-night?"
"One piece," Jack smiled. "I know what you mean, and I don't mind making you a small bet that you are Inspector Bates."
The voice at the other end of the telephone chuckled.
"You have got it quite right, Mr. Masefield," he said. "I am Bates sure enough. And you needn't worry about going down-stairs to see whether or not Anstruther is playing at Paganini, because he isn't on the premises at all."
"Where are you speaking from?" Jack asked.
Bates replied that he was speaking from a public call office in the neighborhood of Mansion House Station. All he wanted to do was to make sure that Jack was still in Panton Square, and now that his mind was easy on this score, he could devote himself to the serious business of the evening. Anstruther had just been shadowed outside the Mansion House Station, where he was apparently waiting for the substitute so kindly provided for him by "Simple Charlie."
The message ceased here, and the connection was cut off. Jack would have been just a little surprised if he had seen the transmogrified Bates who had been speaking to him over the line. The inspector crossed the road and disappeared into the shadow. Anstruther stood there, glancing impatiently up and down the road as if waiting for somebody that was late. A figure slouched up to him, and a hoarse voice whispered in his ear:
"Party of the name of Maggs," he said in his gin and fog voice. "Pal of 'Simple Charlie.' Old Charlie couldn't get away to-night, so he sent me instead. Don't you be disappointed, guv' nor; you will find me just as clever with them bits of steel as Charles himself. Bit of burglary, ain't it?"
Anstruther nodded curtly.