De Spain had gone that morning to Medicine Bend. He got back late and, after a supper at the Mountain House, went directly to his room. The telephone-bell was ringing when he unlocked and threw open his door. Entering the room, he turned on a light, closed the door behind him, and sat down to answer the call. "Is this Henry de Spain?" came a voice, slowly pronouncing the words over the wire. "Yes." "I have a message for you." "What is it?" "From Music Mountain." "Go ahead." "The message is like this: 'Take me away from here as soon as you can.'" "Whom is that message from?" "I can't call any names." "Who are you?" "I can't tell you that." "What do you mean?" "Just what I say. Good-by." "Hold on. Where are you talking from?" "About a block from your office." "Do you think it a fair way to treat a man to----" "I have to be fair to myself." "Give me the message again." "'Take me away from here as soon as you can.'" "Where does it come from?" "Music Mountain." "If you're treating me fair--and I believe you mean to--come over to my room a minute." "No." "Let me come to where you are?" "No." "Let me wait for you--anywhere?" "No." "Do you know me?" "By sight." "How did you know I was in town to-night?" "I saw you get off the train." "You were looking for me, then?" "To deliver my message." "Do you think that message means what it says?" "I know it does." "Do you know what it means for me to undertake?" "I have a pretty stiff idea." "Did you get it direct from the party who sent it?" "I can't talk all night. Take it or leave it just where it is." De Spain heard him close. He closed his own instrument and began feverishly signalling central. "This is 101. Henry de Spain talking," he said briskly. "You just called me. Ten dollars for you, operator, if you can locate that call, quick!" There was a moment of delay at the central office, then the answer: "It came from 234--Tenison's saloon." "Give me your name, operator. Good. Now give me 22 as quick as the Lord will let you, and ring the neck off the bell." Lefever answered the call on number 22. The talk was quick and sharp. Messengers were instantly pressed into service from the despatcher's office. Telephone wires hummed, and every man available on the special agent's force was brought into action. Livery-stables were covered, the public resorts were put under observation, horsemen clattered up and down the street. Within an incredibly short time the town was rounded up, every outgoing trail watched, and search was under way for any one from Morgan's Gap, and especially for the sender of the telephone message.