Eric Masters had the face of a man who lived comfortably and ate well. It was the face
of a man who usually did not worry about the future. All this was gone now. He was
very worried indeed when he picked up the phone and dialled nervously. At first, nobody
answered at the other end. The phone rang at least twelve times but Masters did not hang
up. Finally a sleepy voice answered angrily, "Who is it? What the devil do you want at
this hour?"
It was a man's voice, and it was educated and smooth, but it had a cruel, cold edge.