CHAPTER X
BRUCE DUNCAN’S FRIEND
THE telephone bell awoke Harry Vincent in the morning. He sat up in bed and rubbed his eyes. He had slept late; for the grueling adventure of the preceding night had exhausted him.
As he reached for the phone, he felt a twinge in his left arm — a reminder of the bullet that had wounded him.
The voice on the wire was deliberate.
“Mr. Vincent?”
“Yes.”
“Shall we send the shirts you ordered? We received your letter this morning. Hello! Can you hear me?”
“Yes,” replied Harry.
There was a click from the other end. The speaker had apparently been cut off. Harry listened for a moment; then smiled as he hung up the receiver. The interrupted call had given him the full message.