Mrs. Price Ridley took breath and started again.
“I was rung up—”
“When?”
“Yesterday afternoon—evening to be exact. About half-past six. I went to the telephone, suspecting nothing. Immediately I was foully attacked, threatened—”
“What actually was said?”
Mrs. Price Ridley got slightly pink.
“That I decline to state.”
“Obscene language,” murmured the constable in a ruminative bass.
“Was bad language used?” asked Colonel Melchett.
“It depends on what you call bad language.”
“Could you understand it?” I asked.
“Of course I could understand it.”
“Then it couldn’t have been bad language,” I said.
Mrs. Price Ridley looked at me suspiciously.
“A refined lady,” I explained, “is naturally unacquainted with bad language.”
“It wasn’t that kind of thing,” said Mrs. Price Ridley. “At first, I must admit, I was quite taken in. I thought it was a genuine message. Then the—er—person became abusive.”
“Abusive?”