"I'm going to check our elevator, Joe," Westervelt said.
He left the communications room and trotted up the corridor and around the corner. Through the main doors, he caught sight of Pauline peering out of her compartment. A thought struck him.
He hurried over to her and thrust his head close to the opening in her glass partition.
"Were you still on that line, Cutie?" he demanded.
"What line?" demanded Pauline indignantly. "Oh, Willie, does this mean we have to walk down twenty-five floors tonight?"
"You little—Listen! Don't let out a peep about this until we know more!"
"Why not, Willie?"
"Do you want to get everybody upset? How can they dream up brilliant ideas while they're worrying about ordering sandwiches sent up? Promise!"
Pauline reluctantly gave her word not to say anything without consulting him. Westervelt returned to the hall, where he pressed the button for the elevator.
He waited about three times as long as it usually took to get a car, then tried again with the same lack of results. Looking up, he discovered that even the red light over the entrance to the stairs was out. That, apparently, had not been part of the ninety-ninth floor system now powered by their own generator.