r "Mr. Williams" Shirley pushed the horn close to the telephone
receiver. Van Cleft twisted it, so as to give the best advantage, and
demanded that the speaker come closer to the 'phone.

"Can you hear me now?" asked the feminine voice. "Do you hear me now?"

"No, speak louder. This is Mr. Williams. Speak up. I can't understand
you." The voice was petulant and so distinct that even Shirley could
hear it, as he knelt by the side of the phonograph. Again Van Cleft
insisted on his deafness. There was the suggestion of a break in the
voice which brought to Shirley's eyes the sparkle of a presentiment of
success. At last Van Cleft admitted that he could hear.

"Well, you fool, I've a message for your friend Mr. Van Cleft."

"Which one?" was the innocent inquiry, as he forgot for an instant that
now he was the sole bearer of that name.

"The one that's left. Tell him there will be none left if he continues
this gum-shoe work. He had better let well enough alone, and let that
little girl get out of town as soon as possible. The papers will go
crazy over a scandal like this, and some one is apt to grab Van Cleft.
That's all. Good-bye!"

Silently Shirley shut off the lever of the machine, to catch up the
receiver. As before his endeavor to locate the call resulted in a new
address: this time in the Bronx!

"Ah, the lady leaps from the business district to the Bronx in half an
hour. That is what I call some traveling."

Van Cleft studied him with open mouth, as he withdrew the phonograph
record, coating it with the preservative to make the tiny lines
permanent.

"In the name of common sense, who was that? And what's this phonograph
game?" he demanded.

"The second question may answer the first before sunrise, unless I am
badly mistaken. I have heard an old adage which declares that if you
give a man long enough rope he will hang himself. My new application is
that you let him talk enough he is apt to sing his own swan song, for a
farewell perch on the electric chair at Sing Sing!"

Then he lit a cigarette and packed up the phonograph.

CHAPTER V. THE MISBEHAVIOR OF THE 'PHONE

Still befuddled by the unusual events of the day, Howard Van Cleft was
unable to delight in a theoretical discovery. Personal fear began to
manifest itself.

"Mr. Shirley, you're going at this too strong. We know the guilty
party--this miserable girl in the machine. We want to hush it up and let
things go at that."

"We're hushing