“Tom is thinking of asking for a transfer to outlying districts where he can walk a beat. Says there he can at least help little children over dangerous crossings, and that’s something.
“But I won’t do it.” He rose to pace the floor. “I’m going to stick it out. Things will change. You’ll see. We’ll get a break. We—”
He came to a sudden pause. He listened. The radio had been on—music, and they had not been conscious of it. But now, as on that other night, some one broke in with the words:
“I am the Voice.”
“The Voice.” Drew wrinkled his brow. “What voice?”
“Listen!” Johnny held up a hand.
They did listen. For fifteen minutes not a sound was heard in the room save this voice coming in from the air.
This night the Voice told the people of the city what he thought of certain men they had elected to office: the mayor, certain aldermen, the heads of boards. He charged them with graft and corruption, of winking at thefts from the city treasury.
“Those are hard words!” was Drew Lane’s comment when the Voice had ended. “But every word is true. How does he get his facts, I wonder?”
“That fellow,” he added after a time, “will get himself bumped off. They’ll put him on the spot.”