"You may go," ordered Long, and, as his man left, he moved over
closer to the switchboard.
He was listening eagerly and also watching an indicator that told
the numbers of the rooms which called, as they flashed into view.
Just as a call from "509" flashed up, Long slipped the rings off
his little fingers and loosened the white rats on the telephone
switchboard itself.
With a shriek, the telephone system of the Coste went temporarily
out of business.
The operators fled to the nearest chairs, drawing their skirts
about them.
There was the greatest excitement among all the women in the
corridor. Such a display of hosiery was never contemplated by even
the most daring costumers.
Shouts from the bellboys who sought to catch the rats who
scampered hither and thither in frightened abandon mingled with
the shrieks of the ladies.
Kennedy had succeeded in finding the alcove of the floor clerk in
charge of the fifth floor. There on his desk was an instrument
having a stylus on the end of two arms, connected to a system of
magnets. It was a telautograph.
Unceremoniously, Craig pushed the clerk out of his seat and sat
down himself. It was a last chance, now that the telephone was out
of commission.
Downstairs, in the hotel office, where the excitement had not
spread to everyone, was the other end of the electric long
distance writer.
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