“And the business in hand depends primarily on whether you are interested in the subject matter of the business, n’est-ce pas?”

“I am profoundly interested, mademoiselle, in any matter that concerns you—­as well as in yourself.  Who would not be interested in one so impulsive—­and anything so important—­as to call him on the telephone at two in the morning.”

“And who on his part is so gracious—­and wasn’t asleep,” she answered.

Harleston slowly winked at the transmitter and smiled.

He thought so.  What puzzled him, however, was her idea in prolonging the talk.  Maybe there was not any idea in it, just a feminine notion; yet something in the very alluring softness of her voice told him otherwise.

“You guessed it,” he replied.  “I was not asleep.  Also I might guess something in regard to your business.”

“What?”

“No, no, mademoiselle!  It’s impertinent to guess about what does not concern me—­yet.”

“Delete the word ‘yet,’ Mr. Harleston, and substitute the idea that it was—­pardon me—­rather gratuitous in you to meddle in the first place.”

“I don’t understand,” said Harleston.

“Oh, yes you do!” she trilled.  “However, I’ll be specific—­it’s time to be specific, you would say; though I might respond that you’ve known all along what my business is with you.”

“The name of an individual is a prerequisite to the transaction of business,” he interposed.

“You do not know me, Mr. Harleston.”

“Hence, your name?”

“When we meet, you’ll know me by my voice.”

“True, mademoiselle, for it’s one in a million; but as yet we are not met, and you desire to talk business.”

“And I’m going to talk business!” she laughed.  “And I shall not give you my name—­or, if you must, know me as Madame X. Are you satisfied?”

“If you are willing to be known as Madame X,” he laughed back, “I haven’t a word to say.  Pray begin.”

“Being assured now that you have never before heard my voice, and that you have it fixed sufficiently in your memory—­all of which, Mr. Harleston, wasn’t in the least necessary, for we shall meet today—­we will proceed.  Ready?”

“Ready, mademoiselle—­I mean Madame X.”

“What do you intend to do, sir, in regard to the incident of the deserted cab with the sleeping horse?” she asked.

“I have not determined.  It depends on developments.”

“You see, Mr. Harleston, you were not in the least surprised at my question.”

“For a moment, a mere man may have had a clever woman’s intuition,” he replied.

“And, I suppose, the woman will be expected to aid developments.”

“Isn’t that her present intention?”

“Not at all!  Her present intention is to avoid developments so far as you are concerned, and to have matters take their intended course.  It’s to that end that I have ventured to call you.”