He interrupted.
"Miss Carlson," he pleaded quickly, "we're going to be cut off again. Meet me on the corner of Vermont and Thirteenth, please?"
"Yes but—"
That was all. The keening, piping howl came with ear-shattering loudness once more.
Bronson turned off his gear and headed for the corner of Vermont and 13th. Let 'em hoot and howl.
He'd speak to the girl in person!
An hour later, Ed Bronson still stood there, leaning disconsolately against a lamp post in the bright daylight. A ring of cigarette butts surrounded his feet.
Whatever it was it was important and he, Bronson, had the key. All he had to do was to find the door!
Bronson returned home. The trouble—one of them, anyway—was that his amplifier was a high fidelity affair, capable of flat transmission of sounds as far as the human ear could hear.