“Keep your seat, Mr. Madden,” said he. “I will see what’s doing. This may be the first gun on the skirmish line.”
“Gee! My money goes on that,” put in Patsy.
Nick turned and picked up the telephone while speaking. Removing the receiver, he called hurriedly, almost perfectly imitating Mr. Madden’s voice:[Pg 9]
“Hello! Hello!”
A woman’s voice came over the wire. It was a cold, curt, sinister voice, with a ring of metallic hardness denoting will power, decision, and a sort of bulldog aggressiveness:
“I want Mr. John Madden. Is he at home?”
“Where in thunder have I heard that voice?”
The question flashed through the detective’s mind the instant he heard it. Still imitating that of the venerable millionaire, Nick quickly answered:
“I am he. John Madden is talking. Who are you?”
The response came with more threatening intonation: