“I looked at the one you told me to.”
“Are you certain—the fifth book on the second shelf.”
Had he been standing there listening? How much had he heard?
She heard a movement behind her and turning quickly saw Frederic Hoff standing behind her, his hat and stick in hand. Panic-stricken, she hung up the receiver abruptly. Had he been standing there listening? How much had he heard? He would know, of course, what “the fifth book on the second shelf” signified. Had her carelessness betrayed to him the fact that he and his uncle were being closely watched? Anxiously she studied his face for some intimation of his thoughts. He was standing there smiling at her, and to her agitated brain it seemed that in his smile there was something sardonic, defying, challenging.
“I cannot tell you, Miss Strong, how much I have enjoyed your hospitality. You made the time so interesting that I had no idea it was so late. You will excuse me if I tear myself away at once. I have some important business that demands my immediate attention.”
“I hope you’ll come again,” she managed to stammer, “and you, too, Mr. Kramer.”
White-faced and terrified she escorted them out, leaving the telephone bell jangling angrily. As the door closed behind them, she sank weak and faint into a chair, not daring yet to go again to the ’phone until she was sure they were out of hearing.
What was the “immediate business” that was calling them away so suddenly? She was more than afraid that her incautious use of the phrase “the fifth book on the second shelf” had betrayed her. What else could it mean? Why else would they have departed so abruptly?