"Answer it!" snapped the newcomer.
Bob was about to protest the peremptory tone, but decided he wouldn't. He lacked the phlegmatic temperament necessary to ignore a ringing telephone. "Hello?"
"Hello," he was answered. "Is that Bob Wilson?"
"Yes. Who is this?"
"Never mind. I just wanted to be sure you were there. I thought you would be. You're right in the groove, kid, right in the groove."
Wilson heard a chuckle, then the click of the disconnection. "Hello," he said. "Hello!" He jiggled the bar a couple of times, then hung up.
"What was it?" asked Joe.
"Nothing. Some nut with a misplaced sense of humor." The telephone bell rang again. Wilson added, "There he is again," and picked up the receiver. "Listen, you butterfly-brained ape! I'm a busy man, and this is not a public telephone."
"Why, Bob!" came a hurt feminine voice.
"Huh? Oh, it's you, Genevieve. Look―I'm sorry. I apologize―"