“Good. Then I shall see you at the place we arranged—eh?”

“Of course,” I answered. “But when? I’ve forgotten.”

“Forgotten!” echoed the squeaky voice in a tone of undisguised disgust. “Take care, or you’ll blunder yet. You’re a confounded idiot. Why, to-morrow at midday.”

“I know I’m a fool,” I replied. “But in the excitement it’s quite slipped my memory where you said I was to meet you.”

Then, holding the receiver tremblingly to my ear, I listened with quick heart-beating for the response of that mysterious, far distant voice which squeaked so strangely, sounding thin and high-pitched, more like that of a woman than of a man.

“You’re a confounded fool to waste time like this if you’re still at fifty-eight,” said the voice.

“You’ve said so before,” I responded. “But where shall I meet you?”


Chapter Three.