"We could pretend we were after somebody, and just happened by this way."
The first cop nodded. "That's what we'll do! Draw your gun!"
Assuming expressions of great heroism, the two drew their pistols and brandished them frantically over their heads.
"Stop thief!" they yelled in chorus, and ran frantically through the crowd and away into the night.
And so, the sensational affair of the Whittle monument found its beginnings. An hour later, the news had traveled to the far corners of the earth. Teletypes rattled, and cables hummed. The nation's thinkers quitted their beds in the early hours of the morning to apprise the land of their thoughts on the matter.
The morning paper, which Gerald brought back to the old house from a nearby village, presented a fair cross-section of world opinion on the incident. Only Russia had no thoughts to vouchsafe on the question of buoyant monuments.
"There is more to this matter than the mere loss of a valued landmark," Gerald read aloud. "This may be the insult direct to every red blooded American, the final jab at his pride and sense of independence. For a long time our enemies have done everything possible to discredit our American heroes, and it would appear now that they are even willing to go to the extreme of removing their monuments. That they have chosen to employ a hideous secret weapon to accomplish this monstrous end, clearly indicates an intention to spread fear and panic throughout the nation. When the UN meets tomorrow...."
"You see?" Marc said unhappily. "You see? This thing could easily touch off a war. You fools!"
Gerald's smile, as he put down the paper, was mindful of an actor reading his notices after a successful opening night.