“Can’t understand him. Can you? Seems quite worked up about something, though.”
“Lemme out! Don’t be a fool! Can’t you see this blamed door’s stuck?” And The Duke mouthed and grimaced behind the glass.
Gerald and Harry, maintaining a respectful distance, viewed him gravely.
“Can’t get his number, I suppose,” said Harry sympathetically.
“Maybe he’s got hold of a live wire somehow. Anything wrong, Duke?”
“You open this door, Gerald! I’m suffocating in here!”
“He wants you to open the door,” explained Harry brightly. “But do you think you’d better? He looks a bit dangerous, doesn’t he?”
“Y-yes,” responded Gerald doubtfully. “Perhaps we’d better have help in case he gets——”
But there was such a rattling of the door, such an assault on the side of the booth that Gerald’s words were drowned. “I do hope he’s hung up the receiver so that the operator can’t hear him,” said Harry. “It might give the school a bad name.”