THE CASE OF VINCENT PYRWHIT
common enough now. I had that one fitted up during my wife's illness to communicate with her bedroom on the floor above us on the other side of the house.'
At that moment the bell of the telephone rang sharply.
We both looked at each other. I said with the stupid affectation of calmness one always puts on when one is a little bit frightened:
'Probably a servant in that room wishes to speak to you.'
He got up, walked over to the machine, and swung the green cord towards me. The end of it was loose.
'I had it disconnected this morning,' he said; 'also the door of that room is locked, and no one can possibly be in it.'
He had turned the colour of gray blotting-paper; so probably had I. The bell rang again—a prolonged, rattling ring.
'Are you going to answer it?' I said.
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