"You may go," ordered Long, and, as his man left, he moved over closer to the switchboard.
He was listening eagerly and also watching an indicator that told the numbers of the rooms which called, as they flashed into view.
Just as a call from "509" flashed up, Long slipped the rings off his little fingers and loosened the white rats on the telephone switchboard itself.
With a shriek, the telephone system of the Coste went temporarily out of business.
The operators fled to the nearest chairs, drawing their skirts about them.
There was the greatest excitement among all the women in the corridor. Such a display of hosiery was never contemplated by even the most daring costumers.
Shouts from the bellboys who sought to catch the rats who scampered hither and thither in frightened abandon mingled with the shrieks of the ladies.
Kennedy had succeeded in finding the alcove of the floor clerk in charge of the fifth floor. There on his desk was an instrument having a stylus on the end of two arms, connected to a system of magnets. It was a telautograph.
Unceremoniously, Craig pushed the clerk out of his seat and sat down himself. It was a last chance, now that the telephone was out of commission.
Downstairs, in the hotel office, where the excitement had not spread to everyone, was the other end of the electric long distance writer.