Edestone, turning, saw in the dim light a row of booths against the wall over beyond the door. It was quite dark in that corner, but he could see that the door of the second booth was open. He went inside, muttering as he did so, “I think they might give a fellow a little more light.” As he sat down and took up the receiver, he put out his hand to stop the door from slowly closing, apparently by itself. It was one of those double-walled, sound-proof, stuffy boxes, and he did not want the door shut tight, so he put out his foot to hold it open. But he was just a moment too late. The door shut with a little bang, and when he tried to open it again, he found that it seemed to have jammed. CHAPTER XVII THE VOICE IN THE TELEPHONE Edestone waited. He thought he heard, or rather he felt, a vibration as if someone were moving in the next booth. He tried the door again, but found that it held fast. He was about to signal the switchboard operator and tell him to come and open up the booth, when an, “Are you there, Mr. Edestone?” came to him from across the wire, and caused him for the moment to forget the refractory door. “Hello!” he answered. “Yes; I am Mr. Edestone. Who is this?” The voice, instead of replying directly, spoke as if to another person with an aside. “Mr. Edestone is on the wire.” A moment, and then a second voice spoke. “Are you there, Mr. Edestone?” It was not the voice of his friend, and he answered a trifle impatiently: “Yes. Who are you? Are you speaking for the Marquis of Lindenberry?” “No, I am not,” came the reply. “And I must apologize for having used his name.” The voice bore the unmistakable intonation of an English gentleman. “I am the Count Kurtz von Hemelstein. I regret that circumstances compel me to force myself upon you in this caddish manner. But my duty as a soldier in the service of His Majesty, the Emperor of Germany, demands it. I shall not delay you long, however, if you will only do what I ask.” There was a moment’s pause. Involuntarily Edestone drew back slightly from the instrument. “Count Kurtz von Hemelstein, did you say?” He spoke with a touch of sternness. “I do not think that I have ever had the pleasure of meeting you, sir. I did meet a Count Heinrich von Hemelstein last summer.” “Yes; that was my brother. He has often spoken of you, Mr. Edestone. If I am not mistaken, you were rivals for the attention of a pretty, young matron with a good-natured husband?” “Not rivals, Count von Hemelstein.” Edestone laughed, but under the laugh he was doing some rapid thinking. “Your brother was the favoured one, and when the war broke out, and he had to leave for the front, the lady was almost inconsolable. “But, Count von Hemelstein,” he continued, “what can I do for you? We Americans, you know, do not always insist upon a formal introduction. As we say, ‘Any friend of a friend of mine.’”