Rankling in her heart yet was the death of her lover, Dan the Dude.  For, although in her sphere of crookdom they are neither married nor given in marriage, still there is a brand of loyalty that higher circles might well copy.  Sacred to the memory of the dead, however, she had one desire—­revenge.

Thus when she arrived home, she went to the telephone to report and called a number, 4494 Greenwich.

“Hello, Chief,” she repeated.  “This is Flirty.  Have you done anything yet in the little matter we talked about?”

“Say—­be careful of names—­over the wire,” came a growl.

“You know—­what I mean.”

“Yes.  The trick will be pulled off at three o’clock.”  “Good!” she exclaimed.  “Good-bye and thank you.”

With his well-known caution Clutching Hand did not even betray names over the telephone if he could help it.

Flirty hung up the receiver with satisfaction.  The manes of the departed Dan might soon rest in peace!

The next day, early in the forenoon, a young man with a small package carefully done up came to the Dodge house.

“From Martin’s, the jeweler’s, for Miss Dodge,” he said to Jennings at the door.

Elaine and Aunt Josephine were sitting in the library when Jennings announced him.

“Oh, it’s my watch,” cried Elaine.  “Show him in.”

Jennings bowed and did so.  Spike entered, and handed the package to Elaine, who signed her name excitedly and opened it.

“Just look, Auntie,” she exclaimed.  “Isn’t it stunning?”

“Very pretty,” commented Aunt Josephine.

Elaine put the watch on her wrist and admired it.

“Is it all right?” asked Spike.

“Yes, yes,” answered Elaine.  “You may go.”

He went out, while Elaine gazed rapturously at the new trinket while it ticked off the minutes—­this devilish instrument.

Early the same morning Kennedy went around again to the apartment house and, cautious not to be seen by Flirty, recovered the telegraphone.  Together we carried it to the laboratory.

There he set up a little instrument that looked like a wedge sitting up on end, in the face of which was a dial.  Through it he began to run the wire from the spools, and, taking an earpiece, put another on my head over my ears.

“You see,” he explained, “the principle on which this is based is that a mass of tempered steel may be impressed with and will retain magnetic fluxes varying in density and in sign in adjacent portions of itself—­little deposits of magnetic impulse.

“When the telegraphone is attached to the telephone wire, the currents that affect the receiver also affect the coils of the telegraphone and the disturbance set up causes a deposit of magnetic impulse on the steel wire.

“When the wire is again run past these coils with a receiver such as I have here in circuit with the coils, a light vibration is set up in the receiver diaphragm which reproduces the sound of speech.”  He turned a switch and we listened eagerly.  There was no grating and thumping, as he controlled the running off of the wire.  We were listening to everything that had been said over the telephone during the time since we left the machine.