“Hell of a note, isn't it? Get my wire?”

“There haven't been any wires.”

“Young Parke's in trouble,” he said rapidly. “They picked him up when he handed the bonds over the counter. They got a circular from New York giving 'em the numbers just five minutes before. What d'you know about that, hey? You never can tell in these hick towns — — ”

“Hello!” I interrupted breathlessly. “Look here — this isn't Mr. Gatsby. Mr. Gatsby's dead.”

There was a long silence on the other end of the wire, followed by an exclamation � then a quick squawk as the connection was broken.

I think it was on the third day