Two steps took him to the wall where the day before he had
installed a peculiar box about four by six inches long connected
in some way with a lens-like box of similar size above our bell
and speaking tube in the hallway below. He opened it, disclosing
an oblong plate of ground glass.
"I thought the seismograph arrangement was not quite enough after
that spring-gun affair," he remarked, "so I have put in a sort of
teleview of my own invention--so that I can see down into the
vestibule downstairs. Well--just look who's here!"
"Some new fandangled periscope arrangement, I suppose?" I queried
moving slowly over toward it.
However, one look was enough to interest me. I can express it only
in slang. There, framed in the little thing, was a vision of as
swell a "chicken" as I have ever seen.
I whistled under my breath.
"Um!" I exclaimed shamelessly, "A peach! Who's your friend?"
I had never said a truer word than in my description of her,
though I did not know it at the time. She was indeed known as
"Gertie the Peach" in the select circle to which she belonged.
Gertie was very attractive, though frightfully over-dressed. But,
then, no one thinks anything of that now, in New York.
Kennedy had opened the lower door and our fair visitor was coming
upstairs. Meanwhile he was deeply in thought before the
"teleview.
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