Mrs. Damon, too,
felt the nervous strain.
"This is about the hour he called up yesterday," said Tom, in a
low voice, after coming back from a trip to the window to see that
his airship was in readiness. He had brought over to help in
starting it, for he was using his most powerful and speedy craft,
and the propellers were hard to turn.
"Yes," answered Mrs. Damon. "It was just about this hour, Tom. Oh,
I do hope--"
She was interrupted by the jingle of the telephone bell. With a
jump Tom was at the auxiliary instrument, while Mrs. Damon lifted
off the receiver of her own telephone.
"Yes; what is it?" she asked, in a voice that she tried to make
calm.
"Do you know who this is?" Tom heard come over the wire.
"Are you the--er--the person who was to give me an address where I
am to send certain papers?"
"Yes. I'm the same one. I'm glad to see that you have acted
sensibly. If I get the papers all right, you'll soon have your
husband back. Now do as I say. Take down this address."
"Very well," assented Mrs. Damon. She looked over at Tom. He was
intently listening, and he, too, would note the address given. The
trap was about to be sprung. The game had walked into it. Just
which telephone was being used Tom could not as yet tell. It was
evidently not the one nearest the planing mill, for Tom could not
hear the buzzing sound.
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