Just then one of the drops fell, and Tom, inserting a plug, heard Mr. Boise speaking to him. “I’ll see Mr. Kendall now,” he said. “Mr. Boise will attend to your case now,” repeated Tom to the farmer. “Wa’al, I’ll be switched, ef that ain’t quite an invention,” exclaimed the farmer, as he arose to go into the inner office. “I never heard of telephonin’ to a man twenty feet from ye. Next thing they’ll be havin’ flyin’ machines t’ go from one room t’ another.” CHAPTER XVII A MEAN PLOT The farmer chuckled at his joke, as he passed into the apartments of Mr. Boise, whence, presently, his voice could be heard discussing his case. “I wouldn’t care for many clients like him,” thought Tom, “though he meant well enough. I’d have to explain too much to them.” He resumed his perusal of the law book, until a drop of one of the black disks told him some one from outside wished to talk to a member of the firm. The call was for Mr. Cutler, and, when he had made the connection Tom threw up the cam, so that he could not hear what was being said. For, several times of late, the junior partner had accused the telephone boy of listening to the conversations that went on over the wire. “I’ll not give him a chance this time,” thought Tom. A little later he received a call from the central girl operator. One of the trunk lines did not work just right, and the girl wanted Tom to test it, before a man was sent out to repair it. The young lady was a pleasant-voiced one, and, before he knew it, Tom was exchanging a few jokes with her. She suggested how he himself might get the wire to work better, by making a little adjustment to the switchboard, and he did so. “How’s that?” he asked. “Can you hear me any better?” “Much better,” she replied. “You ought to go into the telephone business.” Then, whether it was something he unconsciously did to the switchboard, or whether the central operator made some unusual connection, Tom never knew. At any rate he found he was “cut in” on the wire over which Mr. Cutler was talking. And, as Tom listened for a moment, not meaning to, he became aware that the man on the other end of the wire was Barton Sandow. And what he said was this: “I’m almost ready to do the trick now. I have the papers safe.” Then there came a buzzing on the wire, and Tom heard no more, but he had listened to enough to understand that whatever game there was between Sandow and the junior partner was still being carried on. “I want to test that other wire,” came the voice of the central girl, a moment later, and Tom, at her request “gave her a ring,” that is, he depressed the button which flashed a tiny electric light on the switchboard at which she sat in the distant central office. “That’s all right,” she announced. “Good-by.”