"Which trunk is it on? Oh, I see, the second. There Captain,
take the fourth booth against the wall."

Cronin stepped in. Shirley connected up and listened with the
transmitter of the operator at his ear, holding the line open.

"Go ahead, here's Captain Cronin!"

A pleasant voice came over the wire. It was musical and sincere.

"Hello, Captain Cronin, is that you?"

"Yes! What do you want?"

The voice continued, with a jolly laugh, ringing and infectious
in its merriment.

"Well, Captain, the joke's on you. Ha, ha, ha! It's a bully
one! Ho, ho! Ha, ha!"

"What joke?"

"You're working on the Van Cleft case. Oh, sure, you are, don't
kid me back. Well, Captain, you've missed two other perfectly
good grafts. This is the third one!"

There was a click and the speaker, with another merry gurgle,
rang off.

"Quick, manager's desk," cried Shirley, jiggling the metal key.