In the city immense crowds watched the bulletins sent momently from the very field itself by private wires strung hastily for the occasion. Enterprising journals had prepared huge rough maps, on which the contracting circle was indicated by red lines, constantly redrawn. It was discovery before a multitude. The imagination of the public, fired by its realization of this fact, stretched itself ahead of the distant beaters, bodying forth what they might find.
As the circle narrowed excitement grew. All business ceased. The streets were crowded; the windows of the buildings looking out on the numerous bulletin-boards were black with heads. Those who could not see demanded eagerly of those who could.
In the Atlas Building the wireless operator hung out of his window. Beside him was Jack Warford.
Darrow declined to join them. "You tell me," said he.
Jack therefore reported back over his shoulder the bulletins as they appeared. The crowds below read them, their faces upturned. One ran:
"Cordon now has surrounded the crest of the Knob. Station of
Monsieur X determined among oak-trees. Men halted. Picket company
surrounds."
The crowd roared its appreciation and impatience. A long pause followed.
Then came the next bulletin:
"Search discovers nothing."
A puzzled angry murmur arose, confused and chopped, like cross currents in a tideway. Finally this was hung out:
"No traces of human occupancy."