Hallowell listened to this
advice with unmixed satisfaction; the afternoon papers would not be able
to get at his source of information. The reporter felt a slight wonder as
to how Darrow had managed his ascendency over the operator. An inquiry as
to that met with a shake of the head.
"I may have to ask your help in that later," was his only reply.
At the corner, after pushing through a curious crowd, the men separated.
Hallowell started for the wharf; Jack Warford for home--at Darrow's
request. The scientist returned to his own apartments, where he locked
himself in and sat for five hours cross-legged on a divan, staring
straight ahead of him, doing nothing. At the end of that time he
cautiously stretched his legs, sighed, rose, and looked into the mirror.
"I guess you're hungry," he remarked to the image therein.
It was now near mid-afternoon. Percy Darrow wandered out, ate a leisurely
meal at the nearest restaurant, and sauntered up the avenue. He paused at
a news stand to buy an afternoon paper, glanced at the head-lines and a
portion of the text, and smiled sweetly to himself. Then he betook himself
by means of a bus to the Warford residence.
Helen was at home, and in the library. With her was Professor Eldridge.
The men greeted each other formally. After a moment of general
conversation Darrow produced the newspaper.
"I see you have your theories in print," he drawled.
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