Though age and illness had to some extent dimmed and enfeebled the powers of the man, still it needed but this spark—that strange telephone message—to galvanize him into action. After the first shock of hearing so unexpectedly about the stolen chest of secrets, Mr. Swift was ready to take active measures to trace the voice coming out of the machine.
“What’s that you say?” he asked, nerving himself to carry on an ordinary conversation about a most extraordinary topic. “Who are you and where are you?”
“Don’t you wish you knew?” came back the challenging inquiry. “Are you ready to talk business?”
“Of course I am,” answered Mr. Swift. “We want that chest back, and we’ll pay any reasonable amount.”
“I’m not saying the amount will be reasonable,” was the reply, and emphasis was laid on the last word. “But you’ll pay our price or you don’t get the chest. And I warn you that if you try to communicate with the police or set the detectives on our trail we’ll immediately break off negotiations.”
Trying to get in touch with the police was just what Mr. Swift was then doing. Ned Newton’s father had entered the office, and, seeing him, Mr. Swift at once took pencil and paper from his desk and while he talked in a rather general way with his unseen listener, he jotted down a few words, explaining matters and suggesting that Mr. Newton go to another telephone to learn from the central operator where the mysterious call was coming from.
There were several trunk telephone lines running into the Swift office, so it was a comparatively easy matter for Mr. Newton to go to another instrument to get the information needed.
Meanwhile Mr. Swift was holding the other man in conversation. Having started Mr. Newton to ferreting out some information, the aged inventor asked:
“How much do you want to return the chest and how can I get in touch with you?”
“If you will take fifty thousand dollars in unmarked bills, make a bundle of them and bring them——”