firm, he had caused to be put into Yarleys at considerable expense in
order that he might be able to communicate with the office in London.
"Were they calling him up from force of habit?" he wondered. He went to
the instrument which was fixed in a little room he used as a study, and
took down the receiver.

"Who is it?" he asked. "I am Yarleys. Alan Vernon."

"And I am Barbara," came the answer. "How are you, dear? Did you sleep
well?"

"No, very badly."

"Nerves--Alan, you have got nerves. Now although I had a worse day than
you did, I went to bed at nine, and protected by a perfect conscience,
slumbered till nine this morning, exactly twelve hours. Isn't it clever
of me to think of this telephone, which is more than you would ever have
done? My uncle has departed to London vowing that no letter from you
shall enter this house, but he forgot that there is a telephone in
every room, and in fact at this moment I am speaking round by his
office within a yard or two of his head. However, he can't hear, so that
doesn't matter. My blessing be on the man who invented telephones,
which hitherto I have always thought an awful nuisance. Are you feeling
cheerful, Alan?"

"Very much the reverse," he answered; "never was more gloomy in my life,
not even when I thought I had to die within six hours of blackwater
fever. Also I have lots that I want to talk to you about and I can't do
it at the end of this confounded wire that your uncle may be tapping."