Bronson shrugged and fired up his transmitting gadget. "Miss Carlson!" he called into the microphone. "Calling Miss Carlson of Thirteen forty-seven Vermont Street. Can you hear me?"
Then he listened.
Her voice paused briefly, took a new tone, but was still covered by the whinings.
"Miss Carlson, this is Ed Bronson. I cannot hear you clearly because of much interference. If you can hear me, make a lilting rill with your voice. This I can distinguish among the many stable-toned notes that are coming in at the time."
The voice rilled up and down several times. Then there was considerable speech which Bronson could not understand.
The upshot of this, however, was a gradual shutting down of the hootings and honkings until the receiver was clear. Then her voice came through again.
"Mr. Bronson. I have requested silence for one minute. Where are you?"
"Thirteen forty-eight Vermont Street, Central City Eleven."
"That is across the street," she said.