"Stop bringing me clews!" he exclaimed. "I want the man. I can't
electrocute a clew!"
So when, after all other efforts, over the telephone a strange voice
offered to deliver the murderer, Rumson was sceptical. He motioned the
girl to switch to the desk telephone.
"Assistant District Attorney Rumson speaking," he said. "What can I do
for you?"
Before the answer came, as though the speaker were choosing his words,
there was a pause. It lasted so long that Rumson exclaimed sharply:
"Hello," he called. "Do you want to speak to me, or do you want to speak
to me?"
"I've gotta letter for the district attorney," said the voice. "I'm to
give it to nobody but him. It's about Banf. He must get it quick, or
it'll be too late."
"Who are you?" demanded Rumson. "Where are you speaking from?"
The man at the other end of the wire ignored the questions.
"Where'll Wharton be for the next twenty minutes?"
"If I tell you," parried Rumson, "will you bring the letter at once?"
The voice exclaimed indignantly:
"Bring nothing! I'll send it by district messenger.
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