“No!” exclaimed Tom indignantly. “I’ll not run away! I never sent that message, and Mr. Boise will be so informed at the telephone office. Why, if I went now he would have every reason to think me guilty!” “Well, I’ve done my best for you,” answered the lawyer, as he turned impatiently aside. “When you’re discharged, and looking for a place, don’t blame me. It’s your own fault.” “I’ll not blame you,” spoke Tom. “I’m not afraid of the consequences. I trust Mr. Boise. He’ll not discharge me unjustly. But if he does, perhaps I can get a place with Dr. Spidderkins,” he said, as a sudden thought came to him. “Dr. Spidderkins! What sort of a place can you get with him? He doesn’t practice any more?” The lawyer seemed strangely excited. “I know that,” replied Tom, “but perhaps he would be glad to hire me to help look after his estate. I understand he has quite a large one, and that his brother-in-law would like to get possession of it.” “What’s that? What are you saying?” demanded Mr. Cutler almost shouting the words, as he started toward Tom, as though he would strike him. “Are you making threats--you--you----” He seemed to be so angry, or so alarmed, that he could not speak. Before Tom could make reply, or the lawyer ask any more questions, the door opened and Mr. Boise entered. The senior partner of the firm was not alone. Behind him stood a pretty girl, who glanced around the office and then frankly smiled at Tom. He thought she was the prettiest girl he had ever seen. “Well, I suppose you found out that I was right about it; did you not?” asked Mr. Cutler. “Not exactly,” replied the senior partner. “There were two messages sent from this office, lately, to Mr. Kittridge.” “Ah, I thought so,” murmured Mr. Cutler, while Tom was wondering what the pretty girl could have to do with the case. “One message was the one which I sent,” went on Mr. Boise. “The other was sent the day before the case came to trial. The manager of the company looked up his records, and he made a suggestion which I think will solve the problem.” “What is that?” asked Mr. Cutler, while he glanced uneasily at the pretty girl. “It is this: The manager suggested that the young lady in charge of that part of the switchboard in the main office, where our wires are, might remember something about it. He sent for her, and I had a talk with her. She does remember the two calls for the office of Kittridge, for the reason that, at present his is the only telephone on a particular circuit.” “But can she tell who called?” asked Mr. Cutler. “Not exactly. I laid the case before her, and she said she was sure of one thing.” “What is that?” “That is that the person who is regularly at our switchboard did not call for the office of Kittridge the second time.” “That’s nonsense!” exclaimed Mr. Cutler. “How can she remember a person’s voice?”