“He⁠—he may have.”

The chief winked at me, an athletic wink in which all his facial muscles took part, and cast a little farther back:

“And you don’t know who called you up?”

“He wouldn’t tell me his name.”

“Didn’t recognize his voice?”

“No.”

“What kind of voice was it?”

“He talked in an undertone, as if afraid of being overheard. I had difficulty understanding him.”

“He whispered?” The chief’s mouth hung open as the last sound left it. His greenish eyes sparkled greedily between their pads of fat.

“Yes, a hoarse whisper.”