“Pardon me, Miss Martha,” said Galusha, “but wasn’t that our—­I should say your ring?”

Martha smiled.  “I didn’t notice,” she said.  “You’re always thinkin’ you hear our ring, Mr. Bangs.  The last time you heard it and called me to the ’phone, it turned out to be Emulous Dodd, the undertaker.  He said, ‘I don’t want you.’  I told him I was thankful for that.”

Her lodger shook his head.  “I’m very sorry,” he said.  “These telephone calls down here—­’Two long and three short’ and—­ah—­the like—­they do confuse me, I admit.  I really can’t seem to get accustomed to them.  Now . . .  Oh, but that is your ring, isn’t it, Miss Martha?”

It was.  Martha took down the receiver.

“Yes . . . yes,” she said.  “Yes, this is Phipps. . . .  Oh, all right. . . .  The girl says it’s a long-distance call,” she added, turning to Galusha.  “Who can be callin’ me from long distance? . . .  Yes . . . yes. . . .  This is Miss Phipps speakin’ now. . . .  Who? . . .  Oh, Mr. Bangs?  Yes, he’s right here.  It’s for you, Mr. Bangs.”

Galusha took the receiver from her hand.  “Ah—­hello!” he hailed.  The wire buzzed and sang.  Then, in his ear and with surprising clearness and nearness, a voice said, brusquely:  “Hello!  Hello, there!  Is that you, Loosh?”

Galusha recognized the voice.  He had not heard it for a long time, but he recognized it at once.  And, recognizing it, something like panic seized him.

“Hello!” shouted the voice again.  “Hello, Galusha!  Is that you?”

Galusha glanced fearfully over his shoulder.  Martha was gazing at him.  She looked alarmed.

“Oh, what is it, Mr. Bangs?” she asked.  “It—­it’s not bad news, is it?”

“No—­ah—­no,” he faltered.  “I—­I—­”

“Eh?  What’s that?” demanded the voice in the receiver, impatiently.  “Hello!  Who is this, anyway?”

“Is there somebody sick or—­or anything?” asked Martha.  “No—­no, Miss Martha.  It’s all right, really.  Yes, indeed, I—­ Oh, quite right.  Yes.”

“But you look so frightened.”

“Do I?  Oh, not in the least.  That is, I . . .  Yes, yes, I hear.  Yes, this is Bangs speaking.”

“Oh, it is!  Well, I’m glad you’re speaking at last.  You’re Galusha Bangs, you say?”

“Yes.  Yes, I—­I think so.”

“You think so!  That’s good!  Don’t you know whether you are or not?”

“I meant I—­I thought I said so.  I am Galusha Bangs.  Yes.”

“Good!  Then we’ve settled so much.  You know who I am, of course?”

Did he?  Oh, if he only did not!  He cast another alarmed glance in his landlady’s direction.  He wondered if the voice which was so distinctly audible in his ear could be heard and understood in the room.  Oh, this was dreadful, dreadful!

“Hello!” roared the voice again.  “Hello, Bangs!  Are you there?”