The rain dashed against the windows. The only other sound from outside was the clanging of the street cars. The girl’s voice, frenzied, exhorting, almost hysterical, pealed out to the roof. At every pause, the little gathering of men and women groaned in sympathy. The man’s frame was shaken with sobs.
Chapter IV
THE POCKET WIRELESS
1.
Mr. Sanford Quest sat in his favourite easy-chair, his cigar inclined towards the left hand corner of his mouth, his attention riveted upon a small instrument which he was supporting upon his knee. So far as his immobile features were capable of expression, they betrayed now, in the slight parting of his lips and the added brightness of his eyes, symptoms of a lively satisfaction. He glanced across the room to where Lenora was bending over her desk.
“We’ve done it this time, young woman,” he declared triumphantly. “It’s all O.K., working like a little peach.”
Lenora rose and came towards him. She glanced at the instrument which Quest was fitting into a small leather case.
“Is that the pocket wireless?”
He nodded.