“The tunnel,” said the president, with a wave of his hand.
There was a murmur of astonishment from most of the reporters, for they had never seen the big tube before.
“Now that I have you all here,” the president went on, “I want to tell you that we propose, for the first time in the history of the world, to walk under the Hudson River!”
There was a chorus of remonstrances, for the reporters for the afternoon papers did not like missing a chance for a story, and they realized they could send no word now.
“If the trial succeeds,” went on the president, “we will cut through the brick wall that separates the east from the west end of the tunnel. I think it will succeed as all but a very thin portion of the wall is gone. All that remains is to turn on a hydraulic jack that will cut down the rest, and the tunnel will be an assured fact.”
“Can’t we send word to our papers?” asked several reporters.
“I’m afraid not,” was the answer of the president. “Those on the morning papers, of course, can tell what happens, but the evening ones will have to wait until to-morrow.”
“We’ll see about that,” whispered Mr. Newton to Larry. “Keep close to me, and when I give you the word you skip back the way we came, tell the man at the elevator you want to get out, and reach the surface as soon as possible. When you do, ring up the office, and tell Mr. Emberg all you have seen.”
“All right,” whispered Larry.
“Forward!” cried the president.