Part 10 (2/2)
”Are you quite sure that it was I who 'phoned?”
”But, yes,” he answered, ”it was your voice, Sir Thomas. You said you were speaking from the office.”
”From the _Evening Special_? I've not been there since late afternoon.
And when have I ever been there so late? There's never more than one person there all night long until six in the morning. It's not a morning paper as you know.”
Preston seemed more than ever bewildered as I flung this at him.
”All I can say is, Sir Thomas,” he said, ”that I heard your voice distinctly and you said you were at the office.”
”What did I say exactly?”
”About the young gentleman, Sir Thomas, the young gentleman who has come to stay for a time. Your instructions were that he should be wakened and told to come to Fleet Street without the least delay. You also said a taxicab would be waiting for him, by the time he was dressed, to drive him down.”
”And he went?”
”Certainly, Sir Thomas, he was in his clothes quicker than I ever see a gentleman dress before, had a gla.s.s of milk and a biscuit, and the cab was just coming as I went down with him and opened the front door.”
I rushed out of the room, down the corridor and into that which had been placed at Rolston's disposal. It was as Preston said, the lad was gone.
The bed was tumbled as he had left it, but a portmanteau full of clothes, some hair brushes and a tooth brush on the wash-stand remained.
Clearly Rolston believed he was obeying orders.
Preston had followed me out of the smoking-room and stood at the door, a picture of uneasy wonder. Let me say at once that Preston had been with me for six years, and was under-butler at my father's house for I don't know how many more. He is the most faithful and devoted creature on earth and, what is more, as sharp as a needle. He, at any rate, had no hand in this business.
”There's something extraordinarily queer about this,” I said. ”I a.s.sure you that I have never been near the telephone during the whole night. I dined with Lord Arthur in Soho and the rest of the evening I have been spending at the Ritz Hotel with Mr. Gideon Morse. You've been tricked, Preston.”
”I'm extremely sorry, Sir Thomas,” he was beginning when I cut him short.
”It's not in the least your fault, but are you certain the voice was mine?”
He frowned with the effort at recollection.
”Well, Sir Thomas,” he said, ”if you hadn't told me what you have, I believe I could almost have sworn to it. Of course, voices are altered on the telephone, to some extent, but it's extraordinary how they do, in the main, keep their individual character.”
He spoke the truth. I, who was using the telephone all day, entirely agreed with him.
”Well, Preston, it was a skillful imitation and not my voice at all.”
”If you will excuse me, Sir Thomas,” he replied, ”your voice is a very distinctive one. It's not very easily mistaken by any one who has heard your voice once or twice.”
”That only makes the thing the more mysterious.”
”The more easy, I should say, Sir Thomas. It must be far less difficult to imitate an outstanding voice with marked peculiarities than an ordinary one.”
He was right there, it hadn't occurred to me before.
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