That's much better than calling it death.'
'I shall ring you off,' said Hugo.
'Wait a moment,' said the voice, still patiently. 'If you should hear
the name Callear--'
There was a pause.
'Well?' Hugo inquired, 'what name?'
'Callear--C-a-l-l-e-a-r. If you should hear that name soon--'
'What then?'
'Remember your promise of secrecy--that's all. Good-bye.'
'I wish you'd tell me where you are.'
'Not far off,' said the voice. 'I shall never be far off, I think. When
you've found Camilla and brought her here'--the tone of the voice
changed and grew almost malignant despite its reticence--'you'd like to
know that I was always near to, somewhere underneath, mouldering,
wouldn't you?'
'What did you say?'
'I said mouldering. Good-bye.'
'But look here--'
The bell rang off. Louis Ravengar had finished his good-bye. Hugo tried
in vain to resume communication with him. He could not even get any sort
of reply from the Exchange.
'It's a queer world,' he soliloquized, as he returned to bed. 'What does
the man mean?'
He was still happy in the prospect of finding Camilla, but it was as
though his happiness were a pool in a private ground, and some
trespasser had troubled it with a stone.
The clock struck ten, and Simon entered with tea and the paper.
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