Very quickly Bristol got into communication with the superintendent of P Division. A brief delay, and the man came to the telephone whose beat included the road wherein Professor Deeping’s house was situated.
“Why!” said Bristol, hanging up the receiver after making a number of inquiries, “it’s a sort of rambling cottage in extensive grounds. There’s only one servant, a manservant, and he sleeps in a detached lodge. If the Professor is really in danger of attack he could not well have chosen a more likely residence for the purpose!”
“What shall you do? What do you make of it all?”
“As I see the case,” he said slowly, “it stands something like this: Professor Deeping has...”
The telephone bell began to ring.
I took up the receiver.
“Hullo! Hullo.”
“Cavanagh!—is that Cavanagh?”
“Yes! yes! who is that?”
“Deeping! I have rung up the police, and they are sending some one. But I wish...”