one. There's
Brophy's, just round the corner, and they send in the loveliest things."

"Oh, they do! Well, tell 'em to begin sending."

I thought he'd follow me out in the hall to the 'phone, but he was
having some trouble in pulling out his purse--to count out his money, I
suppose. I got Central and asked for the number. Oh, yes, I knew it
all right; I had called up that same number once, already, to-day.
Brophy's? Why, Maggie Monahan, you ought to know there's no Brophy's.
At least none that I ever heard about.

With my hand over the mouthpiece, so that nobody heard but Edward, I
ordered a supper fit for a king--or a chorus girl! What didn't I
order! Champagne, broiled lobster, crab meat, stuffed pimentoes,
kirschkaffee--everything I'd ever heard Beryl Blackburn tell about.

"Say, say," interrupted Edward, coming out after me. "That's enough of
that stuff. Tell him to send in a Scotch and soda and--what--"

For at that moment the connection was made and I cut in sweetly with:

"Mrs. Edward Ramsay?--just a minute."

Mag, you should have seen the man's face! It was red, it was white; it
was furious, it was frightened.

I put my hand a moment over the mouthpiece and turned on him then.
"I've got her on the 'phone at Mrs. Gates' house. Shall I tell your
wife where you are, Edward? ... Just a moment, Mrs. Ramsay, hold the
wire; some one wants to speak with you."

"You little devil!" His voice was thick with rage.

"Yes, you called me that some time ago, but not in that tone. Quick,
now--the door or ... Waiting, Mrs. Ramsay?"

He moved toward the door.

"How'll I know you won't tell her when I'm gone?" he growled.

"Merely by my saying that I won't," I answered curtly. "You're in no
position to dictate terms; I am."

But I could, without leaving the 'phone, latch the chain on the door
behind him, leaving it half open. So he must have heard the rest.

"Yes, Mrs. Ramsay, waiting?" I croaked like the driest kind of
hello-girl. "I was mistaken. It was a message left to be delivered to
you--not some one wanting to speak with you. Who am I? Why, this is
Central. Here is the message: 'Will be with you in half an hour.'
Signed 'Edward.' ... Yes, that's right. Thank you. Good night."

I hung up, gave the door a touch that shut it in his face and went back
into the dining-room to throw open the windows. The place smelled of
alcohol; the moral atmosphere left behind by that bad old man sickene