"What is that?" cried Elaine, still blankly wondering.
She had risen by this time and was gazing about, wondering at the strange voice. Suddenly her eye fell on the armor scattered all over the floor. She spied the little oak box.
"Elaine!"
Apparently the voice came from that. Besides, it had a familiar ring to her ears.
"Yes—Craig!" she cried.
"This is my vocaphone—the little box that hears and talks," came back to her. "Are you all right?"
"Yes—all right,—thanks to the vocaphone."
She had understood in an instant. She seized the helmet and breastplate to which the vocaphone still was attached and was holding them close to herself.
. . . . . . . .
Kennedy had been calling and listening intently over the machine, wondering whether it had been put out of business in some way.