"The ship's gone nuts! The heater plays music and the telephone's a spring; there's static in the lights, and electricity in the gas jets. The ventilators give heat and Slops just called me on his refrigerator to tell me the gas stove is spitting ice cubes!"
Cooper, his face flaming with rage, pulled his paws from his ears long enough to scream, "This is a disgrace to the service! Whoever caused this should be cashiered! And by the Lord Harry—"
Just then the door opened, and into the room, with a big, friendly grin on his pan, gangled our lanky lieutenant, Lancelot Biggs.
"Hello, folks!" he said amiably. "Sort of—sort of noisy around here, isn't it?"
Cooper glared at him wildly.
"Biggs, get out of here! You're supposed to be up in the turret repairing that radio set. Get along—"
Biggs smiled sort of sheepishly; his unbelievable Adam's-apple did a loop-the-loop in his throat. He coughed gently.
"Well—er—you see," he said, "that's what made me come down here. I—I guess I must have got a little bit mixed up in the wiring. I got the circuits all crossed up, and—well, durn it, this is what happened!"
By sheer coincidence, just at that moment the air stopped hissing, the music stopped playing, and the tumult that had been flooding the room died away to a whisper. In a brief, horrible silence I heard Cap Hanson gasp, "Lanse! Lanse!" and heard the incredulous snort of Inspector Cooper.