“Hulloa! Hulloa?”
The whirr and clicking stopped, and a voice, squeaky as that of an elderly person, said petulantly—
“I’ve been ringing up for an hour or more. What’s wrong that you haven’t replied? You’re at fifty-eight, aren’t you?”
“Yes,” I answered, recollecting that fifty-eight was the number of that house. “Nothing is wrong. Why? Can’t you be patient?”
“I felt uneasy,” answered the mysterious voice apologetically. “I thought there might possibly have been some hitch as you haven’t rung up.”
“No,” I responded. “None.”
“Then of course it’s all over?” inquired the voice. I started at this strange query. This unknown inquirer was evidently in possession of the truth, and believed himself to be talking to an accomplice. He knew of the commission of the crime, therefore it occurred to me that by the exercise of due caution I might be able to discover his identity.
“Yes,” I answered, breathless in excitement.
“Both?” asked the voice.
“Both,” I responded.