A woman's voice answered, as close as if she was in the next room:
"Yes—who is it?"
"Is Mr. Anthony Ford there?"
"No, Mr. Ford has left my employment. I am Miss Whitehall, my business is closed."
There was a pause. My heart which had hit up a lively gait began to ease down. Only Tony Ford—Pshaw!
"Are you there?" said the woman.
"Yes," came the answer. "Could you give me his address?"
"Certainly. Hold the wire for a moment."
After a wait of a minute or two she was back with the address which she gave him. He repeated it carefully, thanked her and hung up.
Talk of false alarms! I was so disappointed thinking I'd got something for Mr. Whitney, that I sat crumpled up in my chair sulking, and right in the middle of my sulks came the second call.