Shirley replaced the receiver, and the regular attendant resumed
his place at the switchboard. The lad was curious at the unusual
ability of the wealthy Mr. Shirley to handle the bewildering maze
of telephone attachments. Monty explained, as he turned to go
upstairs.

"Son, that was one of my smart friends trying to play a practical
joke on my guest. I fooled him. Don't let it happen again,
until you send in the party's name first."

"Yes, sir," meekly promised the boy.

"Well, Captain Cronin, as the old paperback novels used to say at
the end of the first instalment, 'The Plot thickens!' At first
I thought this case of stupid badger game--"

"You aren't going to back out, Monty? Here's a whole gang of
crooks which would give you some sport rounding up, and as for
money--"

"Money is easy, from both sides of a criminal matter. What
interests me is that ghostly telephone call from a house that
burned down, and the caller's knowledge of Number Three. I'm in
this case, have no fear of that."

Shirley led his guest to the coat room.

"I'll get a taxicab, Monty. We'd better see that girl first and
then have a look at the body."