"I want you to join me at a little supper on Wednesday evening," said Séverac Bablon. "Practically all our influential friends will be present——"
He ignored Sheard's head-shakes and expressive nods directed towards the window.
"There is an old house which I have rented for a time at Richmond. It is known as 'The Cedars,' and overlooks the Thames. The grounds are fairly extensive, and bordered by two very quiet roads. In fact, it is an ideal spot for my purpose. I will send you further particulars"—he glanced towards the window—"in writing. We meet there on Wednesday at nine-thirty. Can I rely upon you?"
"Yes," said Sheard, wondering at the other's indiscretion, "unless I wire you to the contrary. I might be unable to turn up at the last moment, of course."
"You are nervous!" Séverac Bablon smiled, and slipped from the room.
"On the contrary," said Sheard, addressing the window. "There is nothing I enjoy better than an evening in a haunted house!"
(Perhaps, he argued, Alden was not absolutely certain of his visitor's identity. He did not know at what point in the conversation the telephone device had come into action. It was a pity to waste words; he might as well endeavour to throw the eavesdropper off the scent, in addition to covering Séverac Bablon's retreat.)
"Let us hope, Professor," he resumed, with this laudable intention, "that the Society for Psychical Research will be the richer in knowledge for our experiment on Wednesday evening!"
Mr. Aloys. X. Alden, with his ear to the ingenious little "electric eavesdropper," experienced an unpleasant chill upon hearing the visitor within addressed as "Professor."
He had conceived the idea that Sheard—whom he strongly suspected, might hold interviews with the mysterious and elusive Séverac Bablon in the small hours of the morning, at his own house, when the rest of the household were retired.