By evening they had an audio apparatus incorporated in the set and had wired the screen for sound.
"Let's put this to practical use,” suggested Greg. “There's a show at the New Mercury Theater in New York I've been wanting to see. Let's knock off work and take in that show."
"Now,” said Russ, “you really have an idea. The ticket scalpers are charging a fortune, and it won't cost us a cent to get in!"
CHAPTER FIVE
Pine roots burned brightly in the fireplace, snapping and sizzling as the blaze caught and flamed on the resin. Deep in an easy chair, Greg Manning stretched his long legs out toward the fire and lifted his glass, squinting at the flames through the amber drink.
"There's something that's been worrying me a little,” he said. “I hadn't told you about it because I figured it wasn't as serious as it looked. Maybe it isn't, but it looks funny."
"What's that?” asked Russ.
"The stock market,” replied Greg. “There's something devilish funny going on there. I've lost about a billion dollars in the last two weeks."
"A billion dollars?” gasped Russ.
Greg swirled the whiskey in his glass. “Don't sound so horrified. The loss is all on paper. My stocks have gone down. Most of them cut in half. Some even less than that. Martian Irrigation is down to 75. I paid 185 for it. It's worth 200."