Digital heart book

"O, it's you!" he cried; and
then, somewhat recovered, "Mr. Pinkerton's partner, I
believe? I am pleased to see you, sir--to congratulate
you on your late success"; and with that he was gone,
obsequiously bowing as he passed.
And now a madcap humour came upon me. It was plain
Bellairs had been communicating with his principal; I
knew the number, if not the name. Should I ring up at
once? It was more than likely he would return in person
to the telephone. Why should not I dash (vocally) into
the presence of this mysterious person, and have some
fun for my money? I pressed the bell.
"Central," said I, "connect again 2241 and 584 B."
A phantom central repeated the numbers; there was a
pause, and then "Two two four one," came in a tiny
voice into my ear--a voice with the English sing-song--
the voice plainly of a gentleman. "Is that you again,
Mr. Bellairs?" it trilled. "I tell you it's no use.
Is that you, Mr. Bellairs? Who is that?"
"I only want to put a single question," said I,
civilly. "Why do you want to buy the FLYING SCUD?"
No answer came.


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