His 'phone rang, and Sir Harold picked it up.
"Rait," he announced in clipped tones.
"Mr. Rait," a female voice came down the line, "this is Julia, calling from Pudding Norton Provident. We received a call today saying you were dead."
"That's insane!" Rait cried, "how...?"
"Anyone can make a call," the girl told him. "But there was an error in the date she gave. It was a week from today. In the future."
"Just a prank," Rait dismissed it, before hanging up curtly. Moments later, the 'phone rang again. Sir Harold picked it up impatiently.
"Rait," he announced once more.
"Harold Rait, blackmailer and murderer," a harsh male voice cut through the air. "Next time, do not cancel the instruction. In a week's time, you will be dead."