He took down the receiver. "Hello," he said ingratiatingly.
The reply came in a tone no less dulcet: "How do you do, Mr. Robinson."
Jack almost dropped the receiver. "Why—what—who—" he stammered.
He heard a light laugh on the wire. "You are surprised. But I was sure I would find you there."
"Who is this?" asked Jack sparring for time—he knew very well.
"Need you ask?" replied the mocking voice. "This is the owner of the desk at which you are now seated."
Jack said to himself, "Mustn't let him think he's putting it over you!" He answered in the same mocking tone. "How do you do. So glad you called me up."
Clapping a hand over the transmitter, he whispered swiftly to the leading detective: "This is the man. Trace the call back. If he's anywhere near, get him. I'll keep him talking."
The detective took a note of the number on the transmitter, and ran out followed by Tommy.
Meanwhile the voice on the wire was saying: "Sorry I was out when you called."