Something brought him suddenly to his feet. It was the ringing of the
telephone. After four years the sound was one that roused with an
uncomfortable jump every nerve in his body. Probably it was McDowell
calling up about the Jap or to ask how he liked the place. Probably--it
was that. He repeated the thought aloud as he laid his pipe on the
table. And yet as his hand came in contact with the telephone, he felt
an inclination to draw back. A subtle voice whispered him not to
answer, to leave while the storm was dark, to go back into the
wilderness, to fight his way to the western mountains.

With a jerk he unhooked the receiver and put it to his ear.

It was not McDowell who answered him. It was not Shan Tung. To his
amazement, coming to him through the tumult of the storm, he recognized
the voice of Miriam Kirkstone!



VII

Why should Miriam Kirkstone call him up in an hour when the sky was
livid with the flash of lightning and the earth trembled with the roll
of thunder? This was the question that filled Keith's mind as he
listened to the voice at the other end of the wire. It was pitched to a
high treble as if unconsciously the speaker feared that the storm might
break in upon her words. She was telling him that she had telephoned
McDowell but had been too late to catch him before he left for Brady's
bungalow; she was asking him to pardon her for intruding upon his time
so soon after his return, but she was sure that he would understand