The telephone chirrups again and Oliver gets up and goes toward the door of the office with a vague idea of answering it since there seem to be no servants about. Then he remembers something else--Peter's telling him that nothing irritates his father more than having anyone else answer one of his private wires--and stops with his hand on the door that has swung inward an inch or so already under his casual pressure. It doesn't matter anyhow--there--somebody has answered it--Mr. Piper probably, as there is another door to the office and both of them are generally kept locked. Mr. Piper like all great business men has his petty idiosyncrasies. Oliver is just starting to turn away when a whisper of sound that seems oddly like “Mrs. Severance” comes to his ear by some trick of acoustics through the door. He hesitates--and stays where he is, wondering all the time why he is doing anything so silly and unguest-like--and also what on earth he could say if Mr. Piper suddenly flung open the door. But Ted has told him a good deal at various times of the more mysterious aspects of Mrs. Severance, and her name jumping out at him this way from the middle of Mr. Piper's private office makes it rather hard to act like a copybook gentleman--especially with his last conversation with Ted still plain in his mind. The voices are too low for him to hear anything distinctly but again one of the speakers says “Mrs. Severance”--of that he is entirely sure. The receiver clicks back and Oliver regains the lounge in three long soft strides, thanking his carelessness that he is still wearing rubber-soled sport-shoes. He is very much absorbed in an article on “Fishing for Tuna” when Peter comes in. “Well, Oliver, everything ready for you. Awfully sorry you have to rush in this way--” “Yes, nuisance all right, but it's my one best editor and that may mean something real--terribly cheeky thing for me to do, Pete--bumming your car like this--” “Oh rats, you know you're welcome--and anyhow I'm lending it to you because you'll have to bring it back, and that means you'll come back yourself--” “Well look, Pete, _please_ make all the excuses you can for me to your mother. And I'll run back here and change and then go over to the Rackstraws', as soon as I can--Elinor told you about Ted?” “Yes. Sounds sort of simple to me asking him back tonight for that beach picnic tomorrow when he absolutely had to leave this morning--but I never could keep all Elinor's social arrangements straight. Certainly hope he can get off.” “So do I,” says Oliver non-committally and then the door of Mr. Piper's office opens and Mr. Piper comes out looking as well-brushed and courteous as usual but with a face that seems as if it had been touched all over lightly with a grey painful stain. “Hello, Father? Anything up from Secret Headquarters?”