"Perfectly, madam." "Oh, I’m so glad—I’ve been so _terribly_ worried. It’s so unexpected. Mr. Dalzell’s never had so much as a _cramp_ before and now——" "Just wait a minute, Mrs. Dalzell," came the Doctor. "Let me understand. Graham recommends an operation, you say?" "Yes, Dr. Fowler, as soon as possible; something awful may happen if it’s not done. And Dr. Graham suggested you if you’d be so kind. I know it’s a favor but I _must_ have the best for my husband. _Won’t_ you come? Please, to oblige me." Dr. Fowler asked some questions which I needn’t put down and said he’d come and if necessary operate. Then they talked about the best way for him to get there, the Doctor wanting to know if the main line to the Junction wouldn’t be the quickest. But Mrs. Dalzell said she’d been consulting the time tables and there’d be no train from Longwood to the Junction before two and if he wouldn’t mind and would come in his auto by the Firehill Road he’d get there several hours sooner. He agreed to that and it wasn’t fifteen minutes after he’d hung up that I saw him swing past my window in his car, driving himself. Later on in the afternoon I got another call from the Dalzells’ for Mapleshade and heard the Doctor tell Mrs. Fowler that the operation had been a serious one and that he would stay there for the night and probably all the next day. Before that second call, about two hours after the first one, there came another message for Mapleshade that before a week was out was in most every paper in the country and that lifted me right into the middle of the Hesketh mystery. It was near one o’clock, an hour when work’s slack round Longwood, everybody being either at their dinner or getting ready for it. The call was from a public pay station and was in a man’s voice—a voice I didn’t know, but that, because of my curiosity, I listened to as sharp as if it was my lover’s asking me to marry him. The man wanted to see Miss Sylvia and, after a short wait, I heard her answer, very gay and cordial and evidently knowing him at once without any questions. If she’d said one word to show who he was things afterward would have been very different, but there wasn’t a single phrase that you could identify him by—all anyone could have caught was that they seemed to know each other very well. He began by telling her it was a long time since he’d seen her and wanting to know if she’d come to town on Monday and take lunch with him at Sherry’s and afterward go to a concert. "Monday," she said very slow and soft, "the day after to-morrow? No, I can’t make any engagement for Monday." "Why not?" he asked. She didn’t answer right off and when she did, though her voice was so sweet, there was something sly and secret about it. "I’ve something else to do." "Can’t you postpone it?" She laughed at that, a little soft laugh that came bubbling through her words: "No, I’m afraid not." "Must be something very interesting." "Um—maybe so."