"I guess you dropped it on the floor, mister," he said with strong disapproval.
"Certainly not," I said. "Is it broken?"
"Not exactly broken, but—" He shook his head and took it apart some more.
McGill went over and they discussed the problem in undertones. Finally the man left and Molly called her mother to reassure her. McGill tried to explain to me what had happened with the phone.
"You must have joggled something loose. And then you replaced the receiver in such a way that the contact wasn't quite open."
"But for Pete's sake, Molly says the calls were going on for a long time! I phoned you only a short time ago and it must have taken her nearly two hours to get here from Oyster Bay."
"Then you must have done it twice and the vibrations in the floor—something like that—just happened to cause the right induction impulses. Yes, I know how you feel," he said, seeing my expression. "It's beginning to bear down."
Molly was through telephoning and suggested going out for dinner. I was so pleased to see her that I'd forgotten all about being hungry.
"I'm in no mood to cook," she said. "Let's get away from all this."