“Yes, sir.”
“When I say ‘Kill!’—men die! Ha-ha-ha-ha—” The voice of the old man trailed away, and once again he gave way to a spasm of convulsive, mad laughter. At last he regained control of himself. He became solemn again.
“That last letter, Luke. You mailed it to police headquarters.”
“I did, sir.”
“What will this absurd detective say when he reads it?”
Luke Froy shrugged his shoulders.
“He will be afraid to show it to any one! He will be afraid to keep it hidden! Ha-ha-ha-ha-ha—”
WHEN the old man’s outburst had ended, he became very serious. He went to a corner of the room, where a pair of earphones and a mouthpiece rested. He donned the earphones and held the mouthpiece before him. He glanced at the clock and waited. Luke Froy was speaking. The old man saw his lips move and removed the earphones.
“What is it, Luke?” he demanded querulously. “Do not interrupt—”
“You expect no message to-day, sir. Don’t you recall—”