“You can still leave it alone? I don’t know where you come from, or what you’re loafing in this haven of time-servers for, but I’m going to give you a bit of advice: you take that steamer yourself.”
Gerry colored.
“I can’t,” he stammered. “There’s nothing left for me either to go home to.” He said nothing more. The consul had suddenly turned drowsy.
CHAPTER XI
ALMOST a month had passed since Gerry landed on his Lethean shore, and it had served him well. But that night on the balcony woke him up. The world seemed to have time-servers in small regard. First Alix and now this consul chap. Gerry began to think of his mother. He strolled over to the cable station. The offices were undergoing repairs. The ground floor was unfurnished save for a table and one chair. In the chair sat a chocolate-colored employee with a long bamboo on the floor beside him. Gerry’s curiosity was aroused. He went in and wrote his message to his mother, just a few words telling her he was all right. The chocolate gentleman folded the message, slipped it into the split end of the bamboo, and stuck it up through a hole in the ceiling to the floor above.
Loaned by George Inness, Jr. Color-Tone, engraved for THE CENTURY by H. Davidson
SUNSET ON THE MARSHES
FROM THE PAINTING BY GEORGE INNES
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LARGER IMAGE