"I stayed in town to meet them," continued Prentice. "When they did not arrive and I found it was to be such a bad night, I decided to stay at the club, instead of going home. The time was dragging, for it seemed that practically everyone I knew had left town. Then I thought of you and concluded I would run up and pay you a little visit." "I am very glad you did," approved Forrester, "for I am willing to admit that I miss the family now that they have gone." At that moment the telephone bell rang sharply. "Looks like you were not going to be so lonely after all," observed Prentice. Forrester picked up the receiver. "Hello!" said a man’s voice. "Is that you, Mr. Forrester?" "Yes," replied Forrester. "I want to get a little information," informed the voice. "I believe you expect to put some money into a certain tree tomorrow night." "Who are you?" demanded Forrester. "That is of no immediate importance," returned the voice. "What I wanted was to find out the exact time at which you intended to place the money in that tree." "I am not giving any information to strangers," snapped Forrester. "I am sorry," returned the voice in a conciliatory tone, "but I can’t give you any particulars at this time. It is important, however, that I know at what hour you intend to visit the tree." "Better call up the detective bureau," retorted Forrester. "Good-by," and he hung up the receiver. Prentice was leaning toward Forrester with a puzzled expression on his face. "That was a peculiar conversation," he said. "May I ask what it was about?" "A man whose voice I did not recognize," explained Forrester, "was trying to find out at what hour I intended to place that extortion money in the tree tomorrow night. He wanted _his_ information without giving me any." "Strange," murmured Prentice. "Perhaps it was a newspaper man—or a detective." "No need for them to disguise their identity," asserted Forrester. "I certainly have talked freely to all of them." Prentice sat in thoughtful silence for a few minutes, and Forrester was equally absorbed in trying to fathom the object of the person who had called him up. Their thoughts were interrupted by another clamorous ring on the telephone. Again a man’s voice came over the wire when Forrester took up the receiver. This was a very different voice, however; coarse, with a slightly foreign accent, and rough in its address. "That you, Forrester?" asked the voice. "Yes," answered Forrester, gruffly. "What do _you_ want?" "This is the ’Friends of the Poor’," came back over the wire. "’Friends of the Poor’!" repeated Forrester, astonished and Prentice sat up suddenly in his chair. "Yes," affirmed the voice. "We’re tired of fooling around with you and we want to know something definite." "What do you wish to know?" inquired Forrester, less harshly. "We want to know the exact hour at which you will put the money in the tree tomorrow night."