Woods sat still, looking at the sneering, cold, vigilant
face waiting close to the transmitter, and listened to the words that
came from the thin, truculent lips curved into a contemptuous smile.

"That the _Morning Mars_? . . . I want to speak to the managing
editor. . . Why, tell him it's some one who wants to talk to him
about the Norcross murder.

"You the editor? . . . All right. . . I am the man who killed old
Norcross . . . Wait! Hold the wire; I'm not the usual crank . . . Oh,
there isn't the slightest danger. I've just been discussing it with
a detective friend of mine. I killed the old man at 2:30 A. M. two
weeks ago to-morrow. . . . Have a drink with you? Now, hadn't you
better leave that kind of talk to your funny man? Can't you tell
whether a man's guying you or whether you're being offered the
biggest scoop your dull dishrag of a paper ever had? . . . Well,
that's so; it's a bobtail scoop--but you can hardly expect me to
'phone in my name and address . . . Why? Oh, because I heard you make
a specialty of solving mysterious crimes that stump the police. . .
No, that's not all. I want to tell you that your rotten, lying,
penny sheet is of no more use in tracking an intelligent murderer or
highwayman than a blind poodle would be. . . What? . . . Oh, no, this
isn't a rival newspaper office; you're getting it straight. I did the
Norcross job, and I've got the jewels in my suit case at--'the name
of the hotel could not be learned'--you recognize that phrase, don't
you? I thought so. You've used it often enough. Kind of rattles you,
doesn't it, to have the mysterious villain call up your great, big,
all-powerful organ of right and justice and good government and tell
you what a helpless old gas-bag you are? . . . Cut that out; you're
not that big a fool--no, you don't think I'm a fraud. I can tell it
by your voice. . . . Now, listen, and I'll give you a pointer that
will prove it to you. Of course you've had this murder case worked
over by your staff of bright young blockheads. Half of the second
button on old Mrs. Norcross's nightgown is broken off. I saw it when
I took the garnet ring off her finger. I thought it was a ruby. . .
Stop that! it won't work."

Kernan turned to Woods with a diabolic smile.

"I've got him going. He believes me now. He didn't quite cover the
transmitter with his hand when he told somebody to call up Central on
another 'phone and get our number. I'll give him just one more dig,
an