“That would mean an accomplice in the house, which would be dangerous. I think it was done at longer range. As for the question of our friend’s faking in his claim of complete ignorance of all this, I propose to find that out right now.”
Drawing the telephone to him, he called the Caronia apartments. Thus it was that Mr. William H. Robinson, for two unhappy minutes, profoundly feared that at last he had really lost his mind. This is the conversation in which he found himself implicated.
“Hello! Mr. Robinson? This is Mr. A. Jones. You hear me?”
“Yes, Mr. Jones. What is it?”
“Integer vitae, scelerisque purus.”
“I—I—beg your pardon!”
“Non egit Mauris jaculis nec arcu.”
“This is Mr. Robinson: Mr. William H. Rob—”
“Nec venenatis gravida sag—Hello! Central, don’t cut off! Mr. Robinson, do you understand me?”
“God knows, I don’t!”