Bellamy drew Laverick away.
"After all," he said, "perhaps to-morrow morning would be better. There's no need to get shirty with these fellows. As a matter of fact, I don't think that I should have dared to receive it without making some special preparations. I can get some plain clothes men here upon whom I can rely, at nine o'clock."
They strolled back into the hall.
"Tell me," Laverick asked, "do you know who the man was who forged my name to the order a few hours ago?"
Bellamy nodded.
"It was Adolf Kahn, an Austrian spy. I have been watching him for days. If they'd given him the paper I had four men at the door, but it would have been touch and go. He is a very prince of conspirators, that fellow. To tell you the truth, I think I might as well go home."
Bellamy was drawing on his gloves when the hall-porter brought a note to Laverick.
"A messenger has just left this for you, sir," he explained.
Laverick tore open the envelope. The contents consisted of a few words only, written on plain note-paper and in a handwriting which was strange to him.
"Ring up 1232 Gerrard."
Laverick frowned, turned over the half sheet of paper and looked once more at the envelope. Then he passed it on to his companion.
"What do you make of that, Bellamy?" he asked.
Bellamy smiled as he perused and returned it.
"What could any one make of it?" he remarked, laconically. "Do you know the handwriting?"
"Never saw it before, to my knowledge," Laverick answered. "What should you do about it?"
"I think," Bellamy suggested, "that I should ring up number 1232 Gerrard."
They crossed the hall and Laverick entered one of the telephone booths.
"1232 Gerrard," he said.
The connection was made almost at once.
"Who are you?" Laverick asked.
"I am speaking for Miss Zoe Leneven," was the reply. "Are you Mr. Laverick?"
"I am," Laverick answered. "Is Miss Leneveu there? Can she speak to me herself?"
"She is not here," the voice continued. "She was fetched away in a hurry from the theatre--we understood by her brother. She left two and sixpence with the doorkeeper here to ring you up and explain that she had been summoned to her brother's rooms, 25, Jermyn Street, and would you kindly go on there."
"Who are you?" Laverick demanded.
There was no reply. Laverick remained speechless, listening intently. He stood still with the receiver pressed to his ear. Was it his fancy, or was that really Zoe's protesting voice which he heard in the background? It was a woman or a child who was speaking--he was almost sure that it was Zoe.