A long-distance telephone conversation about six o'clock in the afternoon between two voices usually so even and composed that the little pulse of excitement beating through both as they speak now seems perilous, unnatural. One is Mr. Severance's thin cool speech and the other--most curious, that--seems by every obsequious without being servile, trained and impassive turn and phrase to be that of that treasure among household treasures, Elizabeth. “My instructions were that I was to call you, sir, whenever I was next given an evening out.” “Yes, Elizabeth. Well?” “I have been given an evening out tonight, sir.” “Yes.” “Mrs. Severance has told me that I am on no account to return till tomorrow morning, sir.” “Yes. Go on.” “There are the materials of a small but quite sufficient meal for two persons in the refrigerator, sir. Mrs. Severance is dining out, sir--she said.” “Yes. Any further information?” “Mrs. Severance received a telephone call this morning, sir, before she went out. It was after that that she told me I was to have the evening.” “You did not happen to--overhear--the conversation, did you, Elizabeth?” “Oh no, sir. Mrs. Severance spoke very low. The only words that I could catch were 'You' at the beginning and 'Please come' near the end. The words 'please come' were rather--affectionately--spoken if I might make so bold, sir.” “You have done very well, Elizabeth.” “Thank you, sir.” “There is nothing else?” “No, sir. Should you wish me to 'phone you again before tomorrow morning, sir?” “No, Elizabeth.” “Thank you, sir. Good-by, sir.” “Good-by, Elizabeth.” XXXV The rest of the party has scattered to the gardens or the porch--Oliver has wandered into the library alone to wait for Peter who is bringing around the two-seater himself. It is a big dim room with books all the way up to the ceiling and a comfortable leather lounge upon which he sinks, picks up a magazine from a little table beside it and starts ruffling the pages idly. The chirrup of a telephone bell that seems to come out of the wall beside him makes him jump. Then he remembers--that must be Mr. Piper's office through the closed door there. He remembers, as well, Peter joking with his father once about his never getting away from business even in the country and pointing at the half dozen telephones on top of the big flat desk with a derisive gesture while detailing to Oliver the fondness that Sargent Piper has for secretive private wires and the absurd precautions he takes to keep them intensely private. “Why he went and had all his special numbers here changed once just because I found out one of them by mistake and called him up on it for a joke--the cryptic old person!” Peter had said with mocking affection.