"I don't understand!" said Desmond to Mortimer. "What's
annoying?"
"The telephone, my dear Bellward,"--Mortimer spoke in a pompous
voice--"the telephone is the symbol of the age in which we live,
the age of publicity but also of indiscretion. It is almost as
indiscreet to have a telephone in your house as to keep a diary.
Therefore, in view of our little party here this evening, to
prevent us from being disturbed in any way, I took the liberty
of... of severing the connection... temporarily, mind you, only
temporarily; it shall be restored as soon as we break up. I have
some small acquaintance with electrical engineering."
Desmond was silent. Disappointment had deprived him for the
moment of the power of speech. It was to be man to man then,
after all. If he was to secure Mortimer and the rest of the gang
that night, he must do it on his own. He could not hope for aid.
The prospect did not affright him. If Mortimer could have seen
the other's eyes at that moment he might have remarked a light
dancing in them that was not solely of Messrs. Pommery and
Greno's manufacture.
"If I had known you wanted to use the instrument, my dear
fellow," Mortimer continued in his bland voice, "I should
certainly have waited until you had done your business!"
"Pray don't mention it," replied Desmond, "you do well to be
prudent, Mr.
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