CHAPTER XIX
THE BUZZING SOUND
"Are you Mrs. Damon?" came the question again—rather more impatiently this time, Tom thought.
"Yes," answered the lady, glancing over at Tom. The extension telephone was in the same room. Softly Torn switched on the phonograph attachment. The little wax cylinder began to revolve noiselessly, ready to record the faintest word that came over the wire.
"You got a message from me yesterday," went on the hoarse voice. In vain Tom tried to recall whether or not he had heard it before. He could not place it.
"Who are you?" asked Mrs. Damon. She and Tom had previously agreed on a line of talk. "Tell me your name, please."
"There's no need for any names to be used," went on the unknown at the other end of the wire. "You heard what I said yesterday. Are
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