Why don't you try that?"
But Helen slowly shook her head.
"Father and McCarthy are enemies," she said simply. She arose with an air
of weariness. "How dark it's getting!" she said, and pressed the electric
button in the wall.
The light did not respond.
"That's queer," she remarked, and pulled the chain that controlled the
reading light on the table. That, too, failed to illuminate. "Something
must be wrong with those things at the meter--what do you call them?"
"Fuses," suggested Darrow.
"Yes, that's it. I'll ring and have Blake screw in another."
Darrow was staring at a small object he had taken from his pocket. It was
the electric flash-light he habitually carried to light his way up the
three dark flights at his lodgings.
"Let me call him for you," he suggested, rising.
"I'll ring," said Helen.
But Darrow was already in the hall.
"Blake!" he called down the basement stairway. "Bring lamps--or candles."
The man appeared on the word, carrying a lamp.
"I already had this, sir," he explained. "The lights went out some time
ago."
"Did you look at the--fuses?" asked Helen.
"Yes, miss."
"Well, telephone to the electric company at once. We must have light."
Percy Darrow had taken his place again in the armchair by the fire.
"It is useless," said he, quietly.
"Useless!" echoed Helen. "What do you mean?" Blake stood quietly at
attention.
"You will find your telephone also out of order.
Pages:
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
32
33
34
35
36