"Somebody calling this apartment, all right." Holding his hand over the transmitter, Peter spoke to Donald Morris, whose face was a study in anxiety and excitement. There was an instant's silence; then along the wires came another voice, clear and resonant, deep and full, though whether that of a man or woman Peter could not be sure. "Anne," it said. "Anne! Are you there?" Morris was surprised at Clancy's answering tone. It was low and gentle, not at all like his usual voice. "Who's calling?" Clancy repeated, softly. "Why, Anne! You know. You----" Evidently Peter's attempt at dissimulation was not entirely successful, for the voice went on, sharply--"What number is this?" and waited, necessitating a reply. "This is 9282 Sturdevant. Whom are you calling?" "I'm calling Miss Anne Blake," was the quick response. "Is she there, and who are you?" "Miss Anne isn't here now," said Peter, smoothly. "Can I take a message?" He thought there was a note of alarm in the reply--"No. No. I want to find Anne Blake. I want to speak to her at once." "Would Miss Mary do?" asked Peter. He was sure that there was a quickly restrained gasp at the other end of the wire. Then the voice said, peremptorily: "I want to know who this is speaking from Miss Blake's apartment." "Who is it wishes to know?" Peter countered. There was a pause. Peter waited.... The pause lengthened and Peter again spoke into the transmitter-- "Hello, hello!" No answer. Peter waited a moment and then moved the receiver up and down on the hook without effect. At last-- "Operator," came in a dulcet voice over the wire. "Connect me with that party again," cried Peter, urgently. "You've cut us off." "What number was it, please?" "I don't know," fiercely. "See if you can trace it. And hurry!" and Peter waited, holding the receiver to his ear. "Who was it?" cried Morris, unable to restrain his anxiety. "I don't know, dammit!" said Peter, vehemently. "I'm afraid I've made a fool of myself. Somebody calling Miss Anne Blake, and they shied off when they found she wasn't here. I wish to God I knew who it was. Anybody that knows her well enough to call her 'Anne'.... It must have been a friend who might know something that would help! And they cut off, I'm sure. Purposely. Oh----" "Here's your party," said the operator in his ear. "Maybe it's all right," said Clancy, hopefully, to Morris. "They've got the connection again. Hello! Who is this?" "Vanderbilt Hotel," came the prompt answer. "Will you please find out for me who just called Sturdevant 9282, and get them on the wire again?" Peter repeated the name of the hotel to Donald Morris and both men waited anxiously. It seemed an age before the information came back-- "Party spoke from a public booth. We don't know who it was. Sorry." Peter hung up the receiver with an angry click and turned to Morris, repeating the answer he had just received.