The records you want are there. He and I have quarreled and you can go
as far as you like."
Zita took the key eagerly, thanked Paul profusely, and started for the
door.
She had barely passed the threshold before Dora, who had heard all, was
at the telephone in her own room and was angrily calling up Balcom at
his apartment.
Balcom, assisted by his Madagascan servant, was at the moment packing a
trunk, perhaps preparatory to a hasty flight, should that become
necessary. The moment the telephone rang he picked up the receiver and
nearly choked with anger as he heard Dora's whispered voice over the
wire.
"Paul has given Zita the key to your apartment," Dora hastened, "and she
is coming over to steal the record of her birth."
"She is--eh? Well, I'll take care of that," growled Balcom, as he rang
off.
Balcom went to a drawer in the table and from it took a large book.
Rapidly he turned over the pages until he found what he wanted. Then he
made an erasure and an entry and replaced the book in the drawer. Next
he called the servant.
"When she comes, you make her a prisoner," he directed. "Understand?"
The Madagascan nodded and raised one of Balcom's hands to his own
forehead as a sign of his fidelity.
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