Free The Scorpia Menace by Lee Falk

business if it's important enough for me to be threatened."
David Palmer gave her a worried look.
"Listen, Diana," he said. "I'd forget this Scorpia business if I were you. I know how stubborn you are but consider the risks. And there's your mother to think of. It could be dangerous."
Diana compressed her lips into the firm line that David Palmer knew so well.
"I'm sorry, Uncle David," she said. "I must go on."
Neither of them noticed the blond man keenly watching them from the interior of a phone booth on the other side of the boulevard. He saw them pass the end of the street and then opened the door. He strode back up the sidewalk and turned off into a quiet, tree-lined avenue. A big Cadillac was parked in the moonlight. Cringle opened the door and got in. A cigarette lighter flared beside him, illuminating the flabby features of Otto Koch.
"Well?" he said softly.
Cringle looked frightened. He licked his lips.
"She ignored the warning," he said. "She went to the police."
9
THE PHONE MAN COMETH
The ringing of the front door bell brought Mrs. Palmer out of the drawing-room with a crease of annoyance on her normally placid features. The housekeeper was out for the afternoon and the houseboy, who usually attended to the door, was on vacation. Mrs. Palmer herself had been working on an unusually elaborate flower display on a table between the French windows, and so her momentary loss of composure.
A tall man in the blue coveralls of the telephone company was standing on the porch. He had a leather belt bristling with pliers and other small tools strung around his hips, and carried a metal toolbox in his hand. He raised his hand toward his smart peaked cap in a semi-military salute as Mrs. Palmer opened the door.
"Sorry to bother you, Ma'm" he said crisply. "I'm from the phone company. We're doing our yearly wire check-up."
"Oh, I see," said Mrs. Palmer. She had two cut roses in one hand and the clippers in the other, which was why she had had difficulty in opening the door. She looked slightly bewildered.
"You'd better come in," she added, stepping aside. "Though I don't know what you want to look at."
"Just leave it to me, Ma'm," said the tall man with a smile. He took off his cap as he closed the door behind him, disclosing his long blond hair. "It won't take more than half an hour."
"I hope not," said Mrs. Palmer. "I have to go out shopping shortly and I'll want to lock up the house before I leave."
The telephone man smiled faintly as though he'd heard it all before.
"There won't be any problems, Maa'm," he went on. "Or any mess. Just leave it to me."
Mrs. Palmer hovered in the hallway as the big man put down his toolbox. She was mollified to see that he first put a soft cloth on the tiles and then lowered the toolbox gently onto it.
"Isn't this something new?" she queried.
The repairman shook his head.
"No, Ma'm" he replied. "We've been doing it for years. It's a necessary routine."
"I see," said Mrs. Palmer.
Her somewhat severe expression softened.
"Perhaps you'd like a cup of coffee when you're finished. I plan to have a cup myself a little later."
"That would be fine, Ma'm. If you could just show me the main telephones in the house and any extensions I'll get on with the job."
"Certainly," said Mrs. Palmer.
She took the man around the house and showed him the phones. Then they went back to the hall. She watched for a moment, understanding little of the purpose of the instruments and meters he unloaded from the metal box. Presently, she grew tired of the performance and went back to the drawing-room.
"I shall be in the next room if you need me," she said.
The telephone engineer nodded.
"Thanks very much," he said.
He went on humming softly to himself as he bent a piece of wire over with a pair of pliers and attached a meter to it with a metal tag. He concentrated on the needle on the dial, which started flickering to and fro.
Mrs. Palmer shook her head and went back to her roses. The house settled down to its customary