“Never mind who I am. You keep your trap closed, and let me do the talking. If you butt in with any questions, I’ll hang up the receiver. Do you get me?”
“Yes,” said Nick.
“Listen, then, and don’t butt in,” continued the woman. “It’s about a piece of live stock that you must have missed by this time. I’ve got the lamb, and she’s all right. Whether she’ll come home all right, wagging her tail behind her, depends on yourself. You’ll get a letter to-morrow morning stating the conditions. It will be mailed to your business office—and it will mean business, too; you can bet on that.”
“Tell me——”
“You keep quiet,” snapped the woman. “I’ll do all the telling that’s necessary. You do the listening.”
“Go on.”
“The letter you will receive to-morrow morning will explain all. In the meantime the lost lamb will not be harmed, and you must not take steps to find her. If you do, mind you, we will surely fleece her instead of you. Don’t publish the facts. Don’t inform the police. Don’t kick up a stir of any kind. Do you get me?”
“Yes,” Nick repeated simply.
“Mark this, too; don’t you employ Nick Carter in this affair, as you have in others, or it will be all over but the shouting—and the burial. We’ll return her to you in a wooden raincoat. That goes, mind you, and that’s all for the present. Beware of any deviations from these instructions. Wait for your letter to-morrow morning.”
Nick heard the quick click of the hook on the distant telephone when the threatening speaker hung up the receiver, and he knew that any attempt to prolong the interview would be utterly futile. He replaced the telephone on the library table, then turned and told his companions all that he had heard.