Part 29 (2/2)
”Certainly. I daren't refuse.”
He heard her laughing softly. ”Why don't you tell the police?”
”Indeed! There's an army of men besieging the place now.”
”Then you must expect to catch the writer?”
”I've been trying to for a long time.”
”I'm sure I don't know what you are talking about,” she said, innocently.
”Could I have sent the ransom to the wrong address?”
He pretended to be seized with doubt, whereupon Myra Nell exclaimed, quickly:
”Oh, not necessarily.” Then, after a pause, ”Norvin, how does a person get red ink off of her hands?”
”Use a cotton broker. Let him hold it this evening.”
”I'd love to, but Bernie wouldn't allow it. It was his ink, you know, and I spilled it all over his desk. Norvin--is it really nougat?”
”It is, the most unhealthy, the most indigestible--”
”You _duck_! You _may_ hold my gory hand for--Wait!” Blake heard a faint shriek. ”Don't ring off. Something terrible--” Then the wire was dead.
”h.e.l.lo! h.e.l.lo!” he called. ”What's wrong, Myra Nell?” He rattled the receiver violently, and getting no response, applied to Central. After some moments he heard her explaining in a relieved tone:
”Oh, _such_ a fright as I had.”
”What was it? For Heaven's--”
”The cake!”
”You frightened me. I thought--”
”It's four stories high and pasted together with caramel.”
”You should never leave a 'phone in that way without--”
”Bernie detests caramel; but I'm expecting a 'certain party' to call on me to-night. Norvin, do you think red ink would hurt a cake?”
”Myra Nell,” he said, severely, ”didn't you wash your hands before mixing that dough?”
”Of course.”
”I have my doubts. Will you really be at liberty this evening?”
”That depends entirely upon you. If I am, I shall exact another ransom--flowers, perhaps.”
<script>