d seemed as if someone else's breathing was faintly audible in the
background, close to the phone.

_But what message had Tom tried to convey?_

As a routine security-department precaution, Ames's phone was connected
to a recorder which automatically taped all calls. Now, while he
pondered the problem, Ames pressed a foot-treadle switch to play back
the conversation.

Meanwhile, Tom and his captor waited tensely. From time to time the
latter glanced at his watch. "Better hope that call does the trick,
Swift," he muttered. "It's the only hope you got of leavin' here alive!"

"How will you know if they've turned Mirov loose?" Tom asked. He was
wondering if he might persuade his captor to let him make a second call.

"Don't worry. Mirov knows how to contact me."

Half an hour dragged by--then forty minutes. Suddenly the door buzzer
rang sharply. The man jerked to attention, obviously startled. He
glanced at Tom, then toward the direction of the sound, moistening his
lips nervously.

"He must have been expecting just a phone call," Tom decided.

The buzzer shrilled again. This time the man got up from his chair,
gagged Tom hastily with a handkerchief, and went to the door.

"Who's there?" he asked loudly.

"Mirov! Let me in, Duffy!" replied an accented voice from outside.

With a look of relief, Duffy started to open the door--then froze as he
saw not only Mirov, but two police officers and Ames accompanying him.

"Are you the one who's going to put up bail?" one of the officers
demanded.

Duffy floundered, scenting danger but unable to pick up any clue from
Mirov's face. "Why--uh--yeah, maybe. How much is it?"

"Ten million! Can you raise it?" Ames snapped sarcastically.

As Duffy gaped in confusion, the officers suddenly flung their weight
forward. The door flew open and Duffy was thrown back, almost losing his
balance. Beyond, through the small vestibule, Ames caught a glimpse of
Tom on the sofa.

"There he is!" Ames shouted.

Moments later, Tom was untied. Mirov and Duffy were handcuffed together.

The young inventor shook hands joyfully with his rescuers. "Nice going,
Harlan! Boy, I was sweating icicles here, wondering if you'd be able to
decipher all my double talk!"

"You made the numbers clear enough," the security chief said with a
grin, "but it took a while to guess what they stood for. And then, of
course, we had to trace the address through the telephone company."

Eying the ugly bruise o