“Yes,” answered Mrs. Damon.  “It was just about this hour, Tom.  Oh, I do hope—­”

She was interrupted by the jingle of the telephone bell.  With a jump Tom was at the auxiliary instrument, while Mrs. Damon lifted off the receiver of her own telephone.

“Yes; what is it?” she asked, in a voice that she tried to make calm.

“Do you know who this is?” Tom heard come over the wire.

“Are you the—­er—­the person who was to give me an address where I am to send certain papers?”

“Yes.  I’m the same one.  I’m glad to see that you have acted sensibly.  If I get the papers all right, you’ll soon have your husband back.  Now do as I say.  Take down this address.”

“Very well,” assented Mrs. Damon.  She looked over at Tom.  He was intently listening, and he, too, would note the address given.  The trap was about to be sprung.  The game had walked into it.  Just which telephone was being used Tom could not as yet tell.  It was evidently not the one nearest the planing mill, for Tom could not hear the buzzing sound.  It was well he had put his attachment on several instruments.

“One moment, please,” said Mrs. Damon, to the unknown at the other end of the wire.  This was in accordance with the pre-arranged plan.

“Well, what is it?” asked the man, impatiently.  “I have no time to waste.”

Tom heard again the same gruff tones, and he tried in vain to recognize them.

“I want you take down a message to Mr. Damon,” said his wife.  “This is very important.  It can do you no harm to give him this message; but I want you to get it exact.  If you do not promise to deliver it I shall call all negotiations off.”

“Oh, all right I’ll take the message; but be quick about it.  Then I’ll give you the address where you are to send the papers.”

“This is the message,” went on Mrs. Damon.  “Please write it down.  It is very important to me.  Have you a pencil?”

“Yes, I have one.  Wait until I get a bit of paper.  It’s so dark in this booth—­wait until I turn on the light.”

Tom could not repress a pleased and joyful exclamation.  It was just what he had hoped the man would do—­turn on the light in the booth.  Indeed, it was necessary for the success of the trap that the light be switched on.  Otherwise no picture could be transmitted over the wire.  And the plan of having the man write down a message to Mr. Damon was arranged with that end in view.  The man would need a light to see to write, and Tom’s apparatus must be lighted in order to make it work.  The plot was coming along finely.

“There!” exclaimed the man at the other end of the wire.  “I have a light now.  Go ahead with your message, Mrs. Damon.  But make it short.  I can’t stay here long.”

Then Mrs. Damon began dictating the message she and Tom had agreed upon.  It was as long as they dared make it, for they wanted to keep the man in the booth to the last second.