Darrow put forth all his strength
to prevent. There was no violent struggle, no noise; simply the pressure
of opposing forces. Gradually the scientist's youth prevailed against the
older man's desperation. The hand creeping toward the sender came to a
stop. Then, all at once, the older man's resistance collapsed entirely.
Darrow swept his arm back, stepped around the table, and drew his
opponent, almost unresisting, back to the window.
"Jack!" he called.
At the sound of his voice the old man gathered his last vitality in a
tremendous effort to jerk loose from his captor. Catching Darrow unawares,
he almost succeeded in getting free. The flash was too brief. He managed
only to rap the young man's head rather sharply against a shade-fitting of
the window.
The outer door jerked open, and Jack Warford leaped into the room,
revolver in hand. Darrow called an instant warning.
"All right!" he shouted. "Turn on the light, next to you somewhere. Shut
the door."
These orders were obeyed. The electric flared. By its light the office was
seen to be quite empty save for a cabinet full of books and papers; rows
and rows of battery jars; the receiving and sending apparatus of a
wireless outfit; the deal table, and one wooden chair. Darrow looked
around keenly.
"That's all right, Jack," said he. "Just get around here cautiously and
raise the window shade. Look out you don't get near that table.
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