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White, Stewart Edward, 1873-1946

"The Sign at Six"

"What for?"
"To ask McCarthy if he hasn't a job for you in construction."
Jack came to a dead halt.
"Say!" he cried. "Look here! You don't quite get the humor of that. Why,
McCarthy loves the name of Warford about the way a yellow dog loves a tin
can to his tail."
"We'll call on him, just the same," insisted Darrow.
"I'm game," said Jack, "but I can tell you the answer right now. No need
to walk to the Atlas Building."
"I have a notion the Atlas Building is going to be a mighty interesting
place," said Darrow.
They debouched on the street. The air was soft and golden; the sun warm
with the Indian summer. The clock on the Metropolitan tower was booming
nine. As the two set out at a slow saunter down the backwater of the side
street, Darrow explained a little further.
"Jack," said he abruptly, "I'll tell you what I think--or imagine. I
believe last night's phenomena were controlled, not fortuitous or the
result of natural forces. In other words, some man turned off the juice in
this city; and turned it on again. How he did it, I do not know; but he
did it very completely. It was not a question of wiring alone. Even
dry-cell batteries were affected. Now, I can think of only one broad
general principle by which he could accomplish that result. Just what
means he took to apply the principle is beyond my knowledge. But if I am
correct in my supposition, there occurs to me no reason why he should not
go a step or so farther.


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