"The deuce you will!" I heard him exclaim, then apparently whoever
was talking rang off and he could not get them back.
"Another of those confounded telephone messages," he said, turning
to me and taking the cylinder off. "I looks as though the ready-
letter writer who used to send warnings had learned his lesson and
taken to the telephone as leaving fewer clues than handwriting."
He placed the record on the phonograph so that I could hear it. It
was brief and to the point, as had been the first.
"Hello, is that you, Kennedy? We've got Norton. Next we'll get
you. Good-bye."
Kennedy repeated the first message. It was evident that both had
been spoken by the same voice.
"Whose is it?" I asked blankly. "What does it mean?"
Before Craig could answer there was a knock at our door and he
sprang to open it.
XXII
THE VANISHER
It was Juanita, Inez Mendoza's maid, frantic and almost
speechless.
"Why, Juanita," encouraged Kennedy, "what's the matter?"
"The Senorita!" she gasped, breaking down now and sobbing over and
over again. "The Senorita!"
"Yes, yes," repeated Kennedy, "but what about her? Is there
anything wrong?"
"Oh, Mr. Kennedy," sobbed the poor girl, "I don't know.
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