Hark! what is that ?" Several of the detectives of the place were rushing through the main office toward the private office, in answer to Mr.Armstrong's summons.
The call for them had been so furious that they rushed in pell-mell, without waiting to take time to rap.
The bogus Mr.Lester Armstrong still sat in the luxurious leather armchair, his heels on the desk, fairly hidden in heavy clouds of blue smoke from his Havana cigar, at which he was puffing vigorously, fairly going into convulsions of laughter over a letter bearing a blue and gold monogram, which he was reading.
The unceremonious entrance of the four men caused him to spring suddenly to his feet.
"What the d---l do you fellows want ?" he exclaimed angrily.

"How dare you intrude upon me, in my private office, in this unheard-of fashion, like a herd of escaped lunatics ?" "You rang for us," replied one of the men.
"I did not," replied the bogus Mr.Armstrong, resuming his seat pompously.
"The bells certainly rang, sir!" exclaimed the other three, simultaneously.
"Didn't I tell you that I didn't ring ?" he answered, stamping his feet furiously.
In less time than it takes to tell it three more men dashed into the private office, exclaiming: "We are here, sir, at the very first tap of your bell." "You have all gone suddenly stark mad, or you are a set of the blamedest fools in existence, as I have just told these men.

I did not ring.

What on earth do you mean, by insisting that I did, I should like to know ?" "I beg your pardon, but you are still ringing, sir," declared one of the men.

"We can distinctly hear the bell ringing furiously.