Then followed silence. Blash wondered. He tried to think of someone he knew in Baltimore, but couldn’t. He felt decidedly nervous without any good reason that he knew of. Through the glass window he saw the doorman watching him interestedly. Beside him the girl who sold tickets pretended deep absorption in a magazine and chewed her gum rhythmically, but Blash knew that she was finding the suspense almost as trying as he was. After what seemed to him many minutes a voice came to him. It might have been a new voice, but it sounded to Blash much like that of the first speaker. “That you, Wallace!” “Yes! Who are you?” “This is Uncle John.” “_Who?_” “Uncle John, in Baltimore.” “Unc--Say, you’ve got the wrong party, I guess! Who do you want?” “Isn’t this Wallace?” “This is Wallace Blashington!” Blash was getting peevish. “I haven’t any Uncle John in Baltimore or anywhere else!” The ticket girl sniggered and Blash felt his face getting red. “I say I haven’t----” “Yes, Wallace? I can’t hear you very well. I’ve just had word from Dick, Wallace, and----” “Dick who? I say Dick _who_!” roared Blash. “Yes, Wallace, I’m sure you do. Well, this is what he says. I’ll read it to you. ‘Tell Blash----’ He calls you Blash. ‘Tell Blash he needn’t bother----’” “Needn’t _what_?” “Needn’t bother! ‘Tell Blash he needn’t bother to send the other----’ Are you there, Wallace? Did you get that?” “Yes! But who is talking? What is--Look here, I don’t understand----” “Yes, Wallace, I’ll speak more distinctly.--‘Not to bother to send the other seven and a half cents!’” “What cents? Say, look here! Who is Dick? Dick who? What----” “Dick Bates,” answered the ghostly voice. Blash stared for an instant at the instrument. Then he said: “You--you----” in an oddly choked voice, banged the receiver back on the hook and bolted through the door. He was aware that the ticket girl was giggling and that the doorman eyed him amusedly as he hurried into the theatre again and he wondered if they were parties to the hoax. In the darkness at the back of the house he paused and fanned himself with his cap, and as he did so he chuckled. “Not bad,” he whispered to himself. “Not a-tall bad!” Then he made his way down the aisle, located his seat after much difficulty and crawled back to it over many legs and feet. Three concerned faces turned sympathetically. “No bad news, I hope?” said Stanley in an anxious whisper. “Anything important?” asked Sid. Dick looked but said nothing, and Blash, his lips close to Dick’s ear, hissed threateningly: “One word from you, Bates! _Just one word!_”