“You bet it works!”
“But it must cost something to run the thing,” I suggested.
“Well—er—I'm paying for that part,” Hawkins acknowledged, “until I've finished perfecting a motor particularly adapted for the Crano-Scale, you see.”
I smiled audibly. I think that Hawkins was about to take exception to the smile, but a voice from without bawled loudly:
“Two—tons—nut!”
“Ah, there she goes again!” said the inventor rapturously.
This time the Crano-Scale executed a sudden detour before descending. Indeed, the thing came so painfully near to our perch that the wind was perceptible, and when the giant coal-scuttle had passed and dropped, my heart was hammering out a tattoo.
“I don't believe this ledge is safe, Hawkins,” I said.
“Nonsense.”
“But that thing came pretty close.”