voice carefully. It wasn't like Peters's. I'm going to put it in the phonograph, too, and let you listen to it. Then see what you say."
Tom did this a little later. The record of the voice, as it came over the wire, was listened to from the wax cylinder, and Ned had to admit that it was not much like that of the promoter.
"Well, what's next to be done?" asked the young banker.
"I'm going to set a trap," replied Tom, with a grin.
"Set a trap?"
"Yes, a sort of mouse-trap. I'm glad my photo telephone is now perfected, Ned."
"What has that got to do with it?"
"That's going to be my trap, Ned. Here is my game. You know this fellow—this strange unknown—is going to call up Mrs. Damon tomorrow. Well, I'll be ready for him. I'm going to put in the booth where he will telephone from, one of my photo telephones—that is, the sending apparatus. In Mrs. Damon's house, attached to her telephone, will be the receiving plate, as well as the phonograph cylinder.
"When this fellow starts to talk he'll be sending us his picture, though he won't know it, and we'll be getting a record of his voice. Then we'll have him just where we want him."
