“At least a quarter of a million in his own right.”
“Which is exceedingly unlikely,” laughed Noyes.
Tobias Waddell nodded. Then he changed the subject gruffly.
“Sorry you can’t stay for the evening, Parker,” he said. “I enjoy having you here. My only objection is that you receive too many telephone calls from your office.”
“They have been disconcerting,” replied the lawyer, with his characteristic smile. “It seems as though every time we begin a chat, the footman arrives to say that I am wanted on the telephone. Well, business comes first always — when one is an active attorney, and not a retired millionaire.”
Scarcely had Noyes paused before a liveried servant appeared at the door of the sun porch.
“A telephone call for you, sir,” said the footman, addressing Parker Noyes.
The lawyer laughed and arose from his chair. He went into the house, and entered the little room where the telephone was located. There, he carefully closed the door before approaching the telephone.
FREDERICK FROMAN was at the other end of the wire. Noyes recognized his voice instantly.
“You have made arrangements?” Froman’s voice was anxious.