“Hello!” he rejoined.
“Hell-oh! McNason! Are you there?”
“Yes. I’m here. Who are you?”
“That’s telling!” And the shrill piping accents broke into fragments of falsetto laughter that ran vibratingly into McNason’s ear and gave him cold shivers down his back—“Are you at home?”
“Of course I am! Going to bed.”
“Oh! Don’t go to bed! Hell-oh! McNason, don’t go to bed! I want you!”
“Want me? What for?”
Again the broken laughter quavered along the wire in uncanny snatches.
“On business! Very important! Government loan! No delay! Great chance for you! Peerage! Christmas Eve! Don’t go to bed!”
Josiah’s temper rose. He put his mouth to the transmitter and spoke softly, deliberately and with concentrated viciousness.