After a turn down the street, a ride in a surface car for a few
blocks and back again, he was satisfied that no one was following
us and we made our way into the vacant apartment on Seventy-third
Street, without being observed.
Picking up the wires from the back yard of Warrington's and
running them across the back fence where he attached them to other
wires dropped down from the vacant apartment was accomplished
easily, but it all took time, and time was precious, just now.
In the darkness of the vacant room he uncovered and adjusted the
other box, connected one set of wires to those we had led in and
another set to an apparatus which looked precisely like the
receiver of a wireless telegraph, fitting over the head with an
earpiece. He placed the earpiece in position and began regulating
the mechanism of the queer looking box.
"I didn't want to use the detectaphone again," he explained as he
worked, "because we haven't any assurance that they'll talk, or,
if they do, that it will be worth while to listen.
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