Here Shirley shut off the phonograph, addressing Van Cleft with his hand over the mouthpiece of the telephone for the minute.

“Keep on talking until I return.  Get his advice about flowers and everything else you can think of.”

Then he ran from the room, into the hallway, out of the door, and down the stoop to Fortieth Street.  He looked about uncertainly, then espied across the way a tailor shop, where the light of the late workman still burned.  Monty hurried thither and asked the use of the telephone upon the wall.

“Shuair, mister, but it will cost you a dime, for I have to pay the gas and the rent.”

From the telephone directory he obtained the address and number of William Grimsby, the banker.  He received an answer promptly.  The servant, after learning his name promised to call the master.  A gruff voice answered soon.  Mr. Grimsby declared that he had been reading in his library for the last two hours, undisturbed by any telephone calls.  Shirley expressed a doubt.

“How dare you doubt my word, sir.  The telephone is in my reception room where I heard it ring just now, for the first time.  What do you want?”

“An interview with you to-morrow morning at nine on a life and death matter.  I can merely remind you, sir, that two of your friends, Wellington Serral and Herbert de Cleyster have met mysterious deaths during the past week.  Mr. Van Cleft died of heart failure to-night.  I will be there at nine.  As you value your own life do not leave your residence or even answer any telephone messages again until I see you.”

“Well, I’ll be—­” Shirley disconnected, before the verb was reached.  He tossed the coin to the tailor, and speedily returned to the waiting room where he signaled Van Cleft to end the conversation.

“Quick now, find out what wire called you up.”  The answer was “William Grimsby, 97 Fifth Avenue.”

“You had the wrong tip that time, Mr. Shirley,” said Van Cleft.  “But how could he have found out where I was, for none of the servants know about Captain Cronin, or even my family that I was coming down here.  He gave me some good advice however.  I want to pay the hush money and end it all forever.”

Shirley had preserved the record and put it away with the others in the grip.  Now he lit a cigarette and puffed several rings of smoke before answering.

“Van, it must be wonderful to be twins.”

“This is no night for joking,” petulantly, observed the nervous young man.  “I want the girl silenced—­”

“She won’t open her mouth after I tell her some things.  It may entertain you to know, Van, that while you were getting such good advice from Mr. Grimsby on this wire, I was talking to the real Mr. Grimsby on his own wire:  he said I was his first caller in more than an hour.  So, I gave him some good advice, which wouldn’t interest you.  After this don’t believe what the telephone tells.”