The Sign at SixStewart Edward White














THE SIGN AT SIX


THE NEW YORK
PUBLIC LIBRARY
AsTOR, LENOx
T ILDEN FOUNDATIONS


Helen


The Sign at Six
BY STEWART EDWARD WHITE
Author of “The Blazed Trail,” etc.
WITH Four Ill-sikAtions
By M. LEONE B.RACKER
A. L. BURT COMPANY
Publishers New York


CopyRIGHT 1912
THE Bobbs-MERRILL CoMPANY
THE NEW YORK
PU##3º: § Y
ASTOR LENOx AND
T1LDEN FOUNDATION &
R 1918 L


CONTENTS
chapTER
II
III
THE Owner of New York .
THE SHADow of MystERY
THE MOVING FINGER WRITES
DARKNEss AND PANIC . .
A SCIENTIST IN PINK Silk .
THE WRATH To CoME
A WoRLD of GHosts . . .
PERCY DARRow's THEORY
THE GREAT SILENCE . . .
THE LIFTING of the SPELL .
THIRTY Seconds MoRE. . .
THE UNKNowN. . . . .
DARRow's CHALLENGE . .
THE FEAR of DANGER .
THE MASTER SPEAKs AGAIN.
THE PROFEssor's ExPERIMENT
pAge
13
i
VI
VII
VIII
IX
XI
XII
XIII
XIV
XV
XVI
XVII
XVIII
XIX
XX
XXII
XXIII
XXIV
DRAwing THE NET .
CoNFUsion WoRSE ConfoundED .
PERCY KEEPs VIGIL
THE PLAGUE of Cold . . .
IN THE FACE of ETERNITY
THE MAN NExt Door . . .
How IT All WAS .
WHAT HAPPENED AFTERwand
103
116
132
149
160
170
184
192
201
220
235
247
263





THE SIGN AT SIX





THE SIGN AT SIX
CHAPTER I
THE OWNER OF NEW YORK
ERCY DARROW, a young man of scien-
tific training, indolent manners, effeminate
appearance, hidden energy, and absolute cour-
age, lounged through the doors of the Atlas
Building. Since his rescue from the volcanic
island that had witnessed the piratical murder
of his old employer, Doctor Schermerhorn, the
spectacular dissolution of the murderers, and
his own imprisonment in a cave beneath the
very roar of an eruption, he had been nursing
his shattered nerves back to their normal
strength. Now he felt that at last he was able
to go to work again. Therefore, he was about
I


The Sign at Six
to approach a man of influence among practical
scientists, from whom he hoped further occu-
pation.
As the express elevator shot upward, he
passed a long slender hand across his eyes.
The rapid motion confused him still. The car
stopped, and the metallic gates clanged open.
Darrow obediently stepped forth. Only when
the elevator had disappeared did his upward
glance bring to him the knowledge that he had
disembarked one floor too soon.
Darrow's eye fell on a lettered sign outside
the nearest door. He smiled a slow red-
lipped smile beneath his small silky mustache,
drooped his black eyelashes in a flicker of
reminiscence, hesitated a moment, then stepped
languidly forward and opened the door. The
sign indicated the headquarters of the very
modest commissionership behind which Mc-
Carthy chose to work. McCarthy, quite sim-
ply, at that time owned New York.
2


The Sign at Six
As Darrow entered, McCarthy hung up the
telephone receiver with a smash, and sat glar-
ing at the instrument. After a moment he
turned his small bright eyes toward the new-
COmer.
“Hello, Perc,” he growled. “Didn't see you.
Say, I'm so mad my skin cracks. Just now
some measly little shrimp called me up from a
public booth. What ye suppose he wanted,
now? Oh, nothin'! Just told me in so many
words for me to pack up my little trunk and
sail for Europe and never come back! That's
all! He give me until Sunday, too.” Mc-
Carthy barked out a short laugh, and reached
for the cigar box, which he held out to Darrow.
Percy shook his head. “What's the occa-
sion?” he asked.
“Oh, I don't know. Just bughouse, I guess.”
“So he wants you to go to Europe?”
“Wants me? Orders me! Says I got to.”
McCarthy laughed. “Lovely thought!”
3


The Sign at Six
He puffed out a cloud of smoke.
“Says if I don't obey orders he'll send me a
‘sign' to convince me!” went on the boss. “He’s
got a mean voice. He ought to have a tag
hung on him and get carried to the morgue.
He give me the shivers, like a dead man. I
never hear such a unholy thing outside a grave-
yard at midnight!”
Percy Darrow was surveying him with lei-
surely amusement, a slight smile playing over
his narrow dark face.
“Talking to get back your nerve,” he sur-
mised cheerfully to the usually taciturn boss.
“I’d like to know what it was got you going so;
it isn't much your style.”
“Well, you got yours with you,” growled
McCarthy, shifting for the first time from his
solid attitude of the bulldog at bay.
“His ‘sign’ he promised is apt to be a bomb,”
observed Darrow. -
“He’s nutty, all right,” McCarthy agreed,
4


The Sign at Six
“but when he said that, he was doing the tall
religious. He's got a bug that way.”
“Your affair,” said Darrow. “Just the
same, I'd have an outer office.”
“Outer office—rot!” said the boss. “An
outer office just gets cluttered up with people
waiting. Here they've got to say it right out
in meeting—if I want 'em to. What's the good
word, Perc? What can I do for you?”
Darrow smiled. “You know very well, my
fat friend, that the only reason you like me at
all is that I'm the one and only man who comes
into this office who doesn't want one single
thing of you.”
“I suppose that's it,” agreed McCarthy. The
telephone rang. He snatched down the re-
ceiver, listened a moment, and thrust forward
his heavy jowl. “Not on your life!” he
growled in answer to some question. While
he was still occupied with the receiver, Percy
Darrow nodded and sauntered out.


The Sign at Six
mission, he jerked the receiver from its hook
and placed it to his ear.
“Deader than a smelt!” he burst out. “This
is a nice way to run a public business! Thanks,”
he nodded to Doctor Knox, and stormed out.
Darrow rose languidly.
“I’ll see you again,” he told Knox. “At
present I'm going to follow the human cyclone.
It takes more than mere telephones to wake
McCarthy up like that.”
He found the boss in the hall, his finger
against the “down” button.
“That's three cars has passed me,” he
snarled, trying to peer through the ground
glass that, in the Atlas Building, surrounded
the shaft. “I’ll tan somebody's hide. Down!”
he bellowed at a shadow on the glass.
“Have a cigarette,” proffered Percy Darrow.
“Calm down. To the scientific eye you're out
of condition for such emotions. You thick-
necks are subject to apoplexy.”
7


The Sign at Six
“Oh, shut up!” growled McCarthy. “There
isn't a phone in order in this building two
floors either way. I’ve tried 'em—and there
hasn't been for twenty minutes. And I can't
get a messenger to answer a call; and that ring-
tailed, star-spangled ornament of a janitor
won't answer his private bell. I’ll get him
bounced so high the blackbirds will build nests
in his ear before he comes down again.”
After trying vainly to stop a car on its way
up or down, McCarthy stumped down a flight
of stairs, followed more leisurely by the calmly
unhurried Darrow. Here the same perform-
ance was repeated. A half dozen men by now
had joined them. So they progressed from
story to story until an elevator boy, attracted
by their frantic shouts, stopped to see what
was the matter. Immediately the door was
slid back on its runners, McCarthy seized the
astonished operator by the collar.
“Come out of that, you scum of the earth!”
8


McCarthy stumped down a flight of stairs


THE NEW York
PUBLIC LIBRARY
A--o- + --ox
ons
+ 1 r.


The Sign at Six
he roared. “Come out of that and tell me why
you don't stop for your signals!”
“I ain't seen no signals!” gasped the elevator
boy.
Some one punched the button, but the little,
round, annunciator disk in the car failed to
illuminate.
“I wonder if there's anything in order in this
miserable hole!” snarled McCarthy.
“The lights is gone out,” volunteered the
boy; and indeed for the first time the men now
crowding into the car noticed that the incan-
descents were dead.
..While McCarthy stormed out to spread
abroad impartial threats against two public
utility concerns for interfering with his busi-
ness, Percy Darrow, his curiosity aroused, in-
terviewed the janitor. Under that function-
ary's guidance he examined the points of en-
trance for the different wires used for lighting
and communication; looked over the private-
9


The Sign at Six
The delicate needle of the instrument did not
quiver.
“Batteries dead!” said the repair man. “Jim,
what the hotel-bill do you mean by getting dead
batteries? Go back and bring a new lot, and
test 'em.”
In due time Jim returned.
“These test to fifteen,” said he. “Go to it!”
“Test—nothing!” roared the repair man
after a moment. “These are dead, too.”
Percy Darrow left the ensuing argument to
its own warmth. It was growing late. In the
corridor a few hastily-brought lamps cast a
dim light, Percy collided against Doctor Knox
entering the building.
“Not fixed yet?” asked the latter in evident
disappointment. “What's the matter?”
“I don't know,” said Darrow slowly; “it
puzzles me. It's more than an ordinary break
of connections or short-circuiting through ap-
paratus. If one could imagine a big building
II


The Sign at Six
like this polarized in some way—anyhow, the
electricity is dead. Look here.” He pulled an
electric flash-light from his pocket. “Bought
this fresh on my way here. Tested it, of
course. Now, there's nothing wonderful about
these toys going back on a man; but”—he
pressed the button and peered down the lens—
“this is a funny coincidence.” He turned the
lens toward his friend. The filament was dark.


CHAPTER III
THE MOVING FINGER WRITES
HE condition of affairs in the Atlas
Building lasted long enough to carry the
matter up to the experts in the employ of the
companies; that is to say, until about three
o'clock the following morning. Then, without
reason, and all at once, the whole building from
top to bottom was a blaze of incandescent light.
One of the men, stepping to the nearest tele-
phone, unhooked the receiver. To his ear came
the low busy hum of a live wire. Somebody
touched a bell button, and the head janitor,
running joyfully, two steps at a time, from his
lair, cried out that his bell had rung.
The little group of workmen and experts
I3


The Sign at Six
the telephones rang; the call-bells buzzed, and
all was well. At six o'clock came the scrub-
woman; at half past seven the office boys; at
eight the clerks; a little later some of the
heads; and precisely at nine Malachi McCarthy,
as was his invariable habit.
As the bulky form of the political boss
pushed around the leaves of the revolving door,
the elevator starter glanced at his watch. This
was not to determine if McCarthy was on time,
but to see if the watch was right.
McCarthy had recovered his good humor.
He threw a joke at the negro polishing the
brass, and paused genially to exchange a word
with the elevator starter.
“Worked until about three o'clock,” the lat-
ter answered a question. “Got it fixed all
right. No, they didn't say what was the mat-
ter. Something to do with the wires, I sup-
pose.”
“Most like,” agreed McCarthy.
I5


The Sign at Six
At this moment an elevator dropped from
above and came to rest, like a swift bird alight-
ing. The doors parted to let out a young man
wearing the cap of the United Wireless.
“Good morning, Mr. McCarthy,” this young
man remarked in passing. “Aren't going into
the sign-painting business, are you?” He
laughed. - "
“What ye givin' us, Mike?” demanded Mc-
Carthy.
The young man wheeled to include the ele-
vator starter in the joke.
“Air was full of dope most of last night
from some merry little jester working a toy,
home-made. He just kept repeating the same
thing—something about “McCarthy, at six
o'clock you shall have a sign given unto you.
It works,” over and over all night. Some new
advertising dodge, I reckon. Didn't know but
you were the McCarthy and were getting a
present from some admiring constituent.”
I6


The Sign at Six
He threw back his head and laughed, but
McCarthy's ready anger rose.
“Where did the stuff come from?”
“Out of the fresh air,” replied the operator.
“From most anywhere inside the zone of com-
munication.”
“Couldn't you tell who sent it?”
“No way. It wasn't signed. Come from
quite a distance, though.”
“How can you tell that?”
“You can tell by the way it sounds. Say,
they ought to be a law about these amatoors
cluttering up the air this way. Sometimes I
got to pick my own dope out of a dozen or
fifteen messages all ticking away in my head-
piece at once.”
“I know the crazy slob what sent 'em, all
right, all right,” growled McCarthy. “He’s
nutty for fair.”
“Well, if he's nutty, I wish you'd hurry his
little trip to Matteawan,” complained the op-
erator, turning away.
17


The Sign at Six
The boss went to his office, where he estab-
lished himself behind his table-top desk. There
all day he conducted a leisurely business of
mysterious import, sitting where the cool
autumn breeze from the river brought its re-
freshment. His desk top held no papers; the
writing materials lay undisturbed. Sometimes
the office contained half a dozen people. Some-
times it was quite empty, and McCarthy sat
drumming his blunt fingers on the window-sill,
chewing a cigar, and gazing out over the city
he owned.
There were two other, inner, offices to Mc-
Carthy's establishment, in which sat a private
secretary and an office boy. Occasionally Mc-
Carthy, with some especial visitor, retired to
one of these for a more confidential conversa-
tion. The secretary seemed always very busy;
the office boy was often in the street. At noon
McCarthy took lunch at a small round table in
the café below. When he reappeared at the
18


The Sign at Six
elevator shaft, the elevator starter again veri-
fied his watch. Malachi McCarthy had but the
one virtue of accuracy, and that had to do with
matters of time. At five minutes of six he
reached for his hat; at three minutes of six he
boarded the elevator.
“Runs all right to-day, Sam,” he remarked
genially to the boy whom he had half throttled
the evening before.
He stood for a moment in the entrance of
the building, enjoying the sight of the crowds
hurrying to their cars, the elevated, the sub-
way, and the ferries. The clang and roar of
the city pleased his senses, as a vessel vibrates
to its master tone. McCarthy was feeling
largely paternal as he stepped toward the cor-
ner, for to a great extent the destinies of these
people were in his hands.
“Easy marks!” was his philanthropic expres-
sion of this sentiment.
At the corner he stopped for a car. He
I9


The Sign at Six
glanced up at the clock of the Metropolitan
tower. The bronze hand pointed to the stroke
of six. As he looked, the first note of the
quarter chimes rang out. The car swung
the corner and headed down the street. Mc-
Carthy stepped forward. The sweet chimes
ceased their fourfold phrasing, and the great
bell began its spaced and solemn booming.
One!—Two!—Three!—Four!—Five!—Sir!
McCarthy counted. At the recollection of a
crazy message from the Unknown, he smiled.
He stepped forward to hold up his hand at the
car. Somewhat to his surprise the car had
already stopped some twenty feet away.
McCarthy picked his way to the car.
“Wonder you wouldn't stop at a crossing,”
he growled, swinging aboard.
“Juice give out,” explained the motorman.
McCarthy clambered aboard and sat down
in a comfortably filled car. Up and down the
perspective of the street could be seen other
2O


The Sign at Six
cars, also stalled. Ten minutes slipped by;
then Malachi McCarthy grew impatient. With
a muttered growl he rose, elbowed his way
through the strap-hangers, and stepped to the
street. A row of idle taxicabs stood in front
of the Atlas Building. Into the first of these
bounced McCarthy, throwing his address to
the expectant chauffeur.
The man hopped down from his box, threw
on the coil switch and ran to the front. He
turned the engine over the compression, but no
explosion followed. He repeated the effort a
dozen times. Then, grasping the starting han-
dle with a firmer grip, he “whirled” the en-
gine—without result.
“What's the matter? Can't you make her
go?” demanded McCarthy, thrusting his head
from the door.
“Will you please listen, sir, and see if you
hear a buzz when I turn her over?” requested
the chauffeur.
2I


The Sign at Six
“I don't hear nothing,” was the verdict.
“I’m sorry, but you'll have to take another
cab,” then said the man. “My coil's gone back
on me.”
McCarthy impatiently descended, entered the
next taxi in line, and repeated the same experi-
ence. By now the other chauffeurs, noticing
the predicament of their brethren, were anx-
iously and perspiringly at work. Not an en-
gine answered the call of the road! A passing
truck driver, grinning from ear to ear, drove
slowly down the line, dealing out the ancient
jests rescued for the occasion from an oblivion
to which the perfection of the automobile had
consigned them.
McCarthy added his mite; he was beginning
to feel himself the victim of a series of nagging
impertinences, which he resented after his kind.
“If,” said he, “your company would put out
something on the street besides a bunch of re-
tired grist-mills with clock dials hitched on to
22


The Sign at Six
them, you might be able to give the public some
service. I've got lots of time. Don't hurry
through your afternoon exercise on my ac-
count. Just buy a lawn-mower and a chatelaine
watch apiece—you'd do just as well.”
By now every man had his battery box open.
McCarthy left them, puzzling over the singular
failure of the electrical apparatus, which is the
nervous system of the modern automobile.
He turned into Fifth Avenue. An astonish-
ing sight met his eyes.
The old days had returned. The center of
the long roadway, down which ordinarily a
long file of the purring monsters of gasoline
creep and dash, shouldering aside the few han-
soms and victorias remaining from a bygone
age, now showed but a swinging slashing trot
of horses.
Hansoms, hacks, broughams; up-raised
whips, whirling in signal; the spat spat of
horses' hoofs; all the obsolescent vehicles that
23


CHAPTER IV
DARKNESS AND PANIC
ROBABLY the only men in the whole of
New York who accepted promptly and un-
questioningly the fact that the entire electrical
apparatus of the city was paralyzed were those
in the newspaper offices. These capable citi-
zens, accustomed to quick adaptations to new
environments and to wide reaches of the imag-
ination, made two or three experiments, and
accepted the inevitable.
Within ten minutes the Despatch had mes-
senger boys on tap instead of bells, bicycles in-
stead of telephones, and a variety of lamps and
candles in place of electricity. Everybody else
in town was speculating why in blazes this vis-
*...*
25


The Sign at Six
itation had struck them. The Despatch was
out after news.
Marsden, city editor, detailed three men to
dig up expert opinion on why it had all hap-
pened.
“And if the scientific men haven't any other
notions, ask 'em if it's anything to do with the
earth passing through the tail of the comet,”
he told them.
The rest of the staff he turned out for stories
of the effects. His imagination was struck by
the contemplation of a modern civilized city
deprived of its nerve system.
“Hunt up the little stuff,” said he; “the big
stuff will hunt you up—if you scatter.”
After covering the usual police-station, the-
ater and hotel assignments, he sent Hallowell
to the bridge; Longman to the Grand Central;
Kennedy, Warren and Thomas to the tubes,
subways and ferries. The others he told to go
out on the streets.
26


The Sign at Six
They saw a city of four million people
stopped short on its way home to dinner! They
saw a city, miles in extent, set back without
preparation to a communication by messenger
only! They saw a city, unprepared, blinking
its way by the inadequate illuminations of a
half-century gone byl
Hallowell found a packed mass of humanity
at the bridge. Where ordinarily is a crush,
even with incessant outgoing trains sucking
away at the surplus, now was a panic—a panic
the more terrible in that it was solid, sullen,
inert, motionless. Women fainted, and stood
unconscious, erect. Men sank slowly from
sight, agonized, their faces contorted, but un-
heard in the dull roar of the crowd, and were
seen no more. Around the edges people fought
frantically to get out; and others, with the
blind, unreasoning, home instinct, fought as
hard to get in.
The police were unavailing. They could not
27


The Sign at Six
penetrate to break the center. Across the
bridge streamed a procession of bruised and
battered humanity, escaped from or cast forth
by the maelstrom. The daylight was fading,
and within the sheds men could not see one
another's faces.
Longman at the Grand Central observed a
large and curious crowd that filled the building
and packed the streets round about. They
waited for their trains, and the twilight gath-
ered. For ten minutes trains continued to
enter the shed. This puzzled Longman until
he remembered that gravity would bring in
those this side of Harlem. None went out.
The waiting throng was a hotbed for rumors.
Longman collected much human-interest stuff,
and was quite well satisfied with his story—
until he saw what it had meant elsewhere. w
For in the subways and tubes the stoppage
of the trains had automatically discontinued
the suction ventilation. The underground
28


The Sign at Six
thousands, in mortal terror of the non-existent
third-rail danger, groped their way painfully
to the stations. With inconceivable swiftness
the mephitic vapors gathered. Strong men
staggered fainting into the streets. When re-
vived they told dreadful tales of stumbling
over windrows of bodies there below.
Through the gathering twilight of the
streets, dusky and shadowy, flitted bat-like the
criminals of the underworld. What they saw,
that they took. Growing bolder, they pro-
gressed from pocket-picking to holdups, from
holdups to looting. The police reserves were
all out; they could do little. Favored by ob-
scurity, the thieves plundered. It would have
needed a solid cordon of officers to have pro-
tected adequately the retail district. Swiftly a
guerrilla warfare sprang up. Bullets whistled.
Anarchy raised its snaky locks and peered red-
eyed through the darkened streets of the city
Here and there fire broke out. Men on bi-
29


The Sign at Six
cycles brought in the alarms; then, as twilight
thickened, men on foot. Chief Croker prompt-
ly established lookouts in all the tall towers, as
watchmen used a hundred years ago to watch
the night.
And, up-town, Smith cursed the necessity of
reading his evening paper by candle-light; and
Mary, the cook, grumbled because she could
not telephone the grocery for some forgotten
ingredient; and Jones' dinner party was very
hilarious over the joke on their host; and men
swore and their wives worried because they
had perforce to be very late to dinner.
At eight o'clock, two hours after the incep-
tion of the curious phenomena, the condition
suddenly passed. The intimation came to the
various parts of the city in different ways.
Strangely enough, only gradually did the lights
and transportation facilities resume their func-
tions. Most of the dynamos were being in-
spected by puzzled experts. Here and there
30.


The Sign at Six
the blazing of a group of lights, the ringing of
a bell, the response of a volt or ammeter to test,
hinted to the masters of the lightnings that
their rebellious steeds again answered the bit.
Within a half-hour the city's illuminations
again reflected softly from the haze of the au-
tumn sky; the clang of the merry trolley, the
wail of the motor's siren again smote the air.
Malachi McCarthy, having caught a ride on
a friendly dray, arrived home. At eight ten
his telephone bell for the first time jangled its
summons. McCarthy answered it.
“I'm Simmons, the wireless operator,” the
small voice told him. “Say! There's a lot of
these fool messages in the air again. You
know what they said last night about six
o'clock, and what happened.”
“Let's have 'em,” growled McCarthy.
“Here she is: “McCarthy, will you do as I
tell you? Answer. Remember the sign at six
o'clock.” It’s signed ‘M.’”
3I


The Sign at Six
“Where did that come from?” asked the
boss.
“Can't tell, but somewheres a long ways off.”
“How do you know that?”
“By the sound.”
“How far—about?”
“Might be anywhere.”
“Can you get an answer back?”
“I think so. Can't tell whether my spark
will reach that far. I can send out a call for
“M.’”
“Well, send this,” said McCarthy. “‘Go to
hell.’”
On the evening of the phenomena afore
mentioned, Percy Darrow had returned to his
apartments, where he had dressed unusually
early, and by daylight. This was because he
had a dinner engagement up-town. It was an
informal engagement for a family dinner at
seven o'clock; but Percy had been requested
by one of the members to come at about six.
32


The Sign at Six
This was because the other members would
presumably be dressing between six and seven.
The young man found a fire blazing on the
hearth, although the evening was warm. A
graceful girl sat looking into the flames. She
did not rise as the scientist entered, but held
out her hand with an air of engaging frank-
neSS.
“Sit down,” she invited the guest. “This is
a fearful and wonderful time to ask you to
venture abroad in your dress clothes, but I
wanted to see you most particularly before the
rest of the family comes down.”
“You are a singularly beautiful woman,”
observed Darrow in a detached manner, as he
disposed his long form gracefully in the oppo-
site armchair.
The girl looked at him sharply.
“That is intended as an excuse or explana-
tion—not in the least as a compliment,” Dar-
TOW Went On.
33


The Sign at Six
“You would not be so obliging, if I were
not—beautiful?” shot back the girl. “That is
indeed not complimentary!”
“I should be exactly as obliging,” amended
Darrow lazily, “but I should not feel so gen-
erally satisfied and pleased and rewarded in
advance. I should have more of a feeling of
virtue, and less of one of pleasure.”
“I see,” said the girl, her brows still level.
“Then I suppose you are not interested in
what I might ask you as one human being to
another!”
“Pardon me, Helen,” interrupted Darrow,
with unusual decision. “That is just what I
am interested in-you as a human being, a de-
licious, beautiful, feminine, human being who
could mean half the created universe to a
lucky man.”
“But not the whole—”
“No, not the whole,” mused Darrow, relax-
ing to his old indolent attitude. “You see,”
*-
34


The Sign at Six
.
|
he roused himself to explain, “I am a scientist,
for instance. You could not be a scientist;
you have not the training.”
“Nor the brains,” interposed Helen War-
ford, a trifle bitterly.
“Nor the kind of brains,” amended Darrow.
“I have enough of that sort myself,” he added.
He leaned forward, a hunger leaping in the
depths of his brown eyes. “Helen,” he pleaded,
“can't you see how we need each other?”
But the girl shut both her eyes, and shook
her head vigorously.
“Unless people can be everything to each
other, they should be nothing—people like us,”
said she.
Darrow sighed and leaned back.
“I feel that way, but the devil of it is I
can't think it,” said he. Then after a pause:
“What is it you want of me, Helen? I'm
ready.”
She sat up straight, and clasped her hands.
35


The Sign at Six
“It's Jack,” said she.
“What's the matter with Jack?”
“Everything—and nothing. He's just out
of college. This fall he must go to work.
Father wants him to go into an office. Jack
doesn't care much, and will drift into the office
unless somebody stops him.”
“Well?” said Darrow.
“An office will ruin him. He isn't in the
least interested in the things they do in offices;
and he's too high-spirited to settle down to a
grind.”
“He’s like you in spirit, Helen,” said Dar-
row. “What is he interested in P’’
“He’s interested in you.”
“What!” cried Darrow. “Wish it were a
family trait.”
“He thinks you are wonderful, and he knows
all about all your adventures and voyages with
Doctor Schermerhorn. He admires the way
you look and act and talk. I suspect him of

36


The Sign at Six
trying to imitate you.” Helen's eyes gleamed
with amusement.
Darrow smiled his slow and languid smile.
“The last time I saw Jack he stood six feet
and weighed about one hundred and eight-five
pounds,” he pointed out.
“The imitation is funny,” admitted Helen,
“but based on genuine admiration.”
“What do you want me to do with him?”
drawled Darrow.
“I thought you could take him in with you;
get him started at something scientific; some-
thing that would interest and absorb him, and
something that would not leave all his real
energies free for mischief.”
Darrow leaned his head against the back of
the chair and laughed softly. So long did his
amusement continue that Helen at length
brought him rather sharply to account.
“I was merely admiring,” then exclaimed
Darrow, “the delicious femininity of the pro-
37


The Sign at Six
posal. It displays at once such really remark-
able insight into the psychological needs of an-
other human being, and such abysmal igno-
rance of the demands of what we are pleased
to call science.”
“You are the most superior and exasperating
and conceited man I know!” cried Helen. “I
am sorry I asked you. I'd like to know what
there is so silly in my remarks!”
“Jack is physically very strong; he is most
courageous; he has a good disposition, a gen-
tleman's code, and an eager likable nature. I
gather further that he does me the honor of
admiring me personally. He has received a
general, not a special, college education.”
“Well!” challenged Helen.
“Barring the last, these are exactly the quali-
fications of a good bull-terrier.”
“Oh!” cried the girl indignantly, and half
rising. “You are insulting!”
“No,” denied Darrow. “Not that—never

38


The Sign at Six
to you, Helen, and you know it! I'm merely
talking sense. Leaving aside the minor con-
sideration that I am myself looking for em-
ployment, what use has a scientist for a bull-
terrier? Jack has no aptitude for science; he
has had none of the accurate training abso-
lutely essential to science. He probably
wouldn't be interested in science. At the mo-
ment he happens to admire me, and I'm mighty
glad and proud that it is so. But that doesn't
help. If I happened to be a saloon man, Jack
would quite as cheerfully want to be a bar-
keeper. I’d do anything in the world to help
Jack; but I'm not the man. You want to hunt
up somebody that needs a good bull-terrier.
Lots do.”
“I hate such a cold-blooded way of going
at things!” cried the girl. “You show no more
interest in Jack than if—than if—”
Darrow smiled whimsically. “Indeed I do,
Helen,” he said quietly; “that is why I don't
39


The Sign at Six
Darrow was staring at a small object he
had taken from his pocket. It was the electric
flash-light he habitually carried to light his way
up the three dark flights at his lodgings.
“Let me call him for you,” he suggested, ris-
ing.
“I’ll ring,” said Helen.
But Darrow was already in the hall.
“Blake!” he called down the basement stair-
way. “Bring lamps—or candles.”
The man appeared on the word, carrying a
lamp.
“I already had this, sir,” he explained. “The
lights went out some time ago.”
“Did you look at the fuses?” asked Helen.
“Yes, miss.”
“Well, telephone to the electric company at
once. We must have light.”
Percy Darrow had taken his place again in
the armchair by the fire.
“It is useless,” said he, quietly.
4I


The Sign at Six
“Useless!” echoed Helen. “What do you
mean?” Blake stood quietly at attention.
“You will find your telephone also out of
order.”
Helen darted from the room, only to return
after a moment, laughing.
“You are a true wizard,” she said. “Tell
me, how did you know? What has hap-
pened?”
“A city,” stated Percy didactically, “is like
a mollusk; it depends largely for its life and
health on the artificial shell it has constructed.
Unless I am very much mistaken, this particu-
lar mollusk is going to get a chance to try life
without its shell.”
“I don't understand you,” said Helen.
“You will,” said Percy Darrow.
Mr. and Mrs. Warford descended soon after.
They sat down to dinner by the light of the
table candles only. Darrow hardly joined at
all in the talk, but sat lost in a brown study,
42


The Sign at Six
from which he only roused sufficiently to ac-
cept or refuse the dishes offered him. At
about eight o'clock the telephone bell clicked a
single stroke, as though the circuit had been
closed. At the sound Darrow started, then
reached swiftly into his pocket for his little
flash-light. He gravely pressed the button of
this; then abruptly rose.
“I must use your telphone,” said he, without
apology.
He was gone barely a minute; then returned
to the table with a clouded brow. Almost im-
mediately after the company had arisen from
the board, he excused himself and left.
After he had assumed his coat, however, he
returned for a final word with Helen.
“Where is Jack this evening?” he asked.
“Dining out with friends. Why?”
“Will you see him to-night?”
“I can if necessary.”
“Do. Tell him to come down to my room
43


The Sign at Six
as near eight o'clock to-morrow morning as he
can. I've changed my mind.”
“Oh!” cried Helen joyously. “Then you've
concluded I'm right, after all?”
“No,” said Darrow; “but if this thing car-
ries out to its logical conclusion, I'm going to
need a good bull-terrier pup!”


CHAPTER V
A SCIENTIST IN PINK SILK
HE next morning promptly at eight
o'clock Jack Warford, in response to a
muttered invitation, burst excitedly into Percy
Darrow's room. He found the scientist,
draped in a pale-pink silk kimono embroidered
with light-blue butterflies, scraping methodi-
cally at his face with a safety-razor. At the
sight the young fellow came to an abrupt stop,
as though some one had met him with a dash
of cold water in the face.
“Hello!” said he, in a constrained voice.
“Just up?”
Darrow cast a glance through his long silky
lashes at the newcomer.
45


The Sign at Six
“Yes, my amiable young canine, just up.”
Jack looked somewhat puzzled at the appel-
lation, but seated himself.
“Helen said you wanted to see me,” he sug-
gested.
Darrow leisurely cleaned the component
parts of his safety-razor, washed and anointed
his face, and turned.
“I do,” said he, “if you're game.”
“Of course I’m game!” cried the boy in-
dignantly.
Darrow surveyed his fresh, young, eager
face and the trim taut bulk of him with dis-
passionate eyes.
“Are you?” he remarked simply. “Pos-
sibly. But you're not the man to be sure of it.”
“I didn't mean it as bragging,” cried Jack,
flushing.
“Surely not,” drawled Darrow, stretching
out his long legs. “But no man can tell
whether or not he's game until he's tried out.
46


The Sign at Six
That's no reflection on him, either. I remem-
ber once I went through seeing my best friend
murdered; being shot at a dozen times myself
as I climbed a cliff; seeing a pirate ship de-
stroyed with all on board, apparently by the
hand of Providence; escaping from a big vol-
canic bust-up into a cave, and having the cave
entrance drop down shut behind me. I was
as cool as a cucumber all through it. I remem-
ber congratulating myself that, anyhow, I was
going to die game.”
“By Jove!” murmured Jack Warford, star-
ing at him, fascinated. Evidently, the super-
beautiful garment had been forgotten.
“Then a war-ship's crew rescued me; and I
broke down completely, and acted like a silly
ass. I wasn't game at all; I'd just managed
to postpone finding it out for a while.”
“It was just the reaction!” cried Jack.
“Well, if that sort of reaction happens along
before the trouble is all over, it looks uncom-
47


The Sign at Six
monly like loss of nerve,” Percy Darrow
pointed out. “No man knows whether or not
he's game,” he repeated. “However,” he
smiled whimsically, “I imagine you're likely to
postpone your reactions as well as the next.”
“What's up? What do you want me to do?”
“Stick by me; obey orders,” said Darrow.
“What's up?”
“Did you notice anything in the papers this
morning?”
“They're full of this electrical failure last
night. Haven't you seen them?”
“Not yet. While I dress, tell me what they
say.”
“The worst was in the tubes—” Warford
began, but Darrow interrupted him.
“I could tell you exactly what must have
happened,” said he, “if the failure was com-
plete. Never mind that. Was the condition
general, or only local? How far did it ex-
tend ?”
48


The Sign at Six
“It seemed to be confined to New York, and
only about to Highbridge.”
“Long Island? Jersey?”
“Yes; it hit them, too.”
“What are the theories?”
“I couldn't see that they had any—that I
could understand,” said Jack. “There's some
talk of the influence of a comet.”
“Rubbish! Who sprung that?”
“Professor Aitken, I think.”
“He ought to know better. Any others?”
“I couldn't understand them all. There was
one of polarizing the island because of the
steel structures; and the "
“No human agency?”
“What?”
“No man or men are suspected of bringing
this about?”
“Oh, no! You don't think—”
“No, I don't think. I only imagine; and I
haven’t much basis for imagining. But if my
49


The Sign at Six
imaginations come out right, we'll have plenty
to do.”
“Where, now?” asked Jack, as the scientist
finished dressing and reached for his hat.
“Breakfast?”
“No, I ate that before I dressed. We'll
make a call on the Atlas Building.”
“All right,” agreed Jack cheerfully. “What
for P”
“To ask McCarthy if he hasn't a job for
you in construction.”
Jack came to a dead halt.
“Say!” he cried. “Look here! You don't
quite get the humor of that. Why, McCarthy
loves the name of Warford about the way a
yellow dog loves a tin can to his tail.”
“We'll call on him, just the same,” insisted
Darrow.
“I’m game,” said Jack, “but I can tell you
the answer right now. No need to walk to
the Atlas Building.”
50


The Sign at Six
“I have a notion the Atlas Building is going
to be a mighty interesting place,” said Dar-
TOW.
They debouched on the street. The air was
soft and golden; the sun warm with the In-
dian summer. The clock on the Metropolitan
tower was booming nine. As the two set out
at a slow saunter down the backwater of the
side street, Darrow explained a little further.
“Jack,” said he abruptly, “I’ll tell you what
I think—or imagine. I believe last night's
phenomena were controlled, not fortuitous or
the result of natural forces. In other words,
some man turned off the juice in this city; and
turned it on again. How he did it, I do not
know; but he did it very completely. It was
not a question of wiring alone. Even dry-cell
batteries were affected. Now, I can think of
only one broad general principle by which he
could accomplish that result. Just what means
he took to apply the principle is beyond my
5.I


The Sign at Six
knowledge. But if I am correct in my sup-
position, there occurs to me no reason why he
should not go a step or so farther.”
“I don't believe I follow,” said Jack con-
tritely.
“What I’m driving at is this,” said Darrow;
“this is not the end of the circus by any means.
We're going to see a lot of funny things—if
my guess is anywhere near right.”


CHAPTER VI
THE WRATH TO COME
-- ID you ever meet McCarthy?” asked
Darrow, as the elevator of the Atlas
sprang upward.
“Never.”
“Well, no matter what he says or does, I
want you to say nothing—nothing.”
“Correct,” said Jack. “I’ll down-charge.”
“That's right,” Darrow approved. “First
of all, wait outside until I call you.”
McCarthy was already at his desk, and in
evil humor. When Darrow entered, he merely
looked up and growled.
“Good morning,” Darrow greeted him
easily. “Any wireless this morning?”
53


The Sign at Six
McCarthy threw back his heavy head.
“That damn operator's been leaking!” he
cried.
“So there are ‘wireless',” observed Darrow.
“No, your operator didn't leak. Who is he?”
“If he didn't leak, what did you say that
for?”
“I’m a good guesser,” replied Darrow enig-
matically. “They say anything about a ‘sign'
being sent, and such talk?”
“You’ve been gettin' the dope yourself out
of the air,” returned McCarthy sullenly.
“Look here, my fat friend,” drawled Dar-
row, his eyes half closing, “I’m getting nothing
from anywhere except in my own gray mat-
ter. What do your messages have to say?”
“Why should I tell you?”
“Because I'm interested—and because I
know who sent 'em.”
“So do I,” snarled McCarthy, in a gust of
temper.
54


The Sign at Six
“And I’m beginning to suspect he's a man
to look out for. And I doubt if you'll ever
find him. Of course, he's responsible for the
row last night—as well as for the trouble in
the Atlas Building the night before.”
“I don't know whether he is or not.”
“Oh, yes, you do; and I do; and the wire-
less man does. We're the only three. The
rest of them are still figuring on comets.”
“Well?”
“I don’t suppose there's any real doubt left
in your mind but that this man can turn the
juice off again, if he wants to?”
“I don't know as he did it,” persisted Mc-
Carthy stoutly.
“Now, how long do you suppose you'd last
if the public should get on to the fact that this
hidden power was going to exert itself again
unless you left town?”
A slight moisture bedewed McCarthy's fore-
head.
55


The Sign at Six
“Not all your police, nor all your power
could save you, if the general public once be-
came thoroughly convinced that it was to go
through another experience like last night's
unless it ousted you. Why, a mob of a mil-
lion men would gather against you in an hour.
You see,” drawled Percy Darrow, “why you'd
better look after that wireless man of yours—
and me.”
“And you,” repeated McCarthy. “What do
you want?”
“I want to see those wireless messages, first
of all,” said Darrow, reaching out his hand.
McCarthy hesitated; then swiftly thrust for-
ward the flimsies. Darrow, a slight smile
curving his full red lips, held them to the light.
They read as follows:
“McCARTHY: A sign was promised you at
six o'clock. It has been sent. Repent and be-
ware! Go while there is yet time. M.”
56


The Sign at Six
“Sure,” growled McCarthy, once more back
on familiar ground, and glad of it. “What
is it?”
“I’ll tell you when I'm sure whether I can
do anything for you in this matter.”
“If this fellow didn't leak, how did you
know about them wireless?” demanded Mc-
Carthy again. “How do you know who's doin'
this?”
Darrow smiled.
“The man who can control the juice as this
man has is a scientific expert with a full scien-
tific equipment. If he communicated at all,
it would be by wireless, as that is the easiest
way to cover his trail. I remembered your tele-
phone message from the fanatic about sending
a ‘sign'. Immediately after, the Atlas Build-
ing experienced on a small scale what next
day the city experienced on a larger scale. It
was legitimate inference to connect one with
the other. Of course, if our telephone friend
58


The Sign at Six
“Are you sure?”
“I know my instruments pretty well; and
I’ve had experience enough so I can tell by the
sound of the sending about how far off they
come from.”
“And this was from somewhere about one
to two hundred miles away, you think?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Do you know whether any other instru-
ments caught this?”
“No, only mine.” He was very positive.
“How do you know?”
“Mr. McCarthy had me inquire.”
“How do you account for it?”
“I don't know, except that maybe my in-
strument happened to be just tuned to catch
it. That's another reason I know it was from
far off. The farther away the sending instru-
ment, the nearer exactly it has to be tuned to
the receiving instrument. If it was nearer,
'most anybody'd get it.”
6o


The Sign at Six
Percy Darrow nodded.
“That's all, I guess. No, hold on. Did any
of these come between six and eight last even-
ing?” -
For the first time the operator smiled.
“No, sir; my instrument was dead.”
He went out.
“Well?” growled McCarthy.
“I don't know; but I can see more trouble.”
“Let him turn off his juice,” blustered the
boss; “we’ll be ready, next time.”
Percy Darrow smiled.
“Will you?” he contented himself by saying.
Then, after a moment's pause, he added, “I’ll
agree to stop this fellow if you'll give me an
absolutely free hand. I'll even agree to find
him.”
“What do you want?”
“I want a job, a good engineering-construc-
tion job, for a friend of mine.”
“What can he do?”
61


The Sign at Six
“He can learn. I want a good honest place
where he can learn under a good man.”
“Who is he?”
“I’ll bring him in.”
A moment later Jack, in answer to a sum-
mons, entered the office.
McCarthy stared at him. “What kind of a
job?” he growled.
“Something active and out of doors,” Dar-
row answered for him; “streets, water, engi-
neering.”
“It’s a holdup,” said McCarthy sullenly
drawing a tablet toward himself, and thrusting
the stub of a pencil into his mouth.
“A beneficent and just holdup,” added Dar-
row; “the first of its kind in this city.”
McCarthy glared at him malevolently.
“It don't go unless you deliver the goods,”
he threatened.
“Understood,” agreed Darrow.
“What's his name?” demanded McCarthy,
62


The Sign at Six
withdrawing the pencil stub, and preparing to
write.
“His name,” answered Darrow, “is John
Warford, Junior.”
McCarthy started to his feet with a bellow
of rage, his face turning purple.
“Of all the infernal—!” he roared, and
stopped, as though stricken dumb. For two or
three words further his mouth and throat went
through the motions of speech. Then an ex-
pression of mingled fear and astonishment
overspread his countenance. He sank back
into his chair. Percy Darrow nodded twice
and smiled.


CHAPTER VII
A WORLD OF GEIOSTS
DEATHLY stillness had all at once
A. like a blanket, blotting out Mc-
Carthy's violent speech. The rattling type-
writer in the next room was abruptly stilled.
The roar of the city died as a living creature
is cut by the sword—all at once, without the
transitionary running down of most silences.
Absolute dense stillness, like that of a sea
calm at night, took the place of the customary
city noises. In his astonishment McCarthy
thrust a heavy inkstand off the edge of his
desk. It hit the floor, spilled, rolled away; but
noiselessly, as would the inkstand in a moving
picture.
64


The Sign at Six
To have one's world thus suddenly stricken
dumb, to be transported orally from the roar
of a city to the peace of a woodland or a be-
calmed sea is certainly astonishing enough.
But this silence was particularly terrifying
to both McCarthy and Jack Warford, though
neither would have been able to analyze the
reason for its weirdness. For silence is in real-
ity a composite of many lesser noises. In a
woodland almost inaudible insects hum, breezes
blow, leaves and grasses rustle; at sea the tiny
waves lap the sides and equally tiny breaths of
air stir the cordage; within the confines of the
human shell the mere physical acts of breath-
ing, swallowing, winking, the mere physical
facts of the circulation of the blood, the beat-
ing of the heart, produce each its sound.
Even a man totally deaf feels the subtle in-
fluence of these latter physical phenomena.
And underneath all sound, perceptible alike to
those who can hear and those who can not, are
65


The Sign at Six
McCarthy's bulldog courage had recovered
from its first daze. He began to see that this
visitation was not entirely personal, but ex-
tended also to his two companions. This re-
lieved his mind, for he had suspected some
strange new apoplexy.
“Did you expect this?” he wrote.
Darrow nodded.
Together the three ghosts left the phantom
office, and glided down the phantom halls.
Other ghosts in various stages of alarm were
already making their way down the stairs.
Some of them spoke, but no sound came.
One woman, her eyes frightened, reached out
furtively to touch her neighbor, apparently to
assure herself of his reality. Urged by an un-
controllable impulse, a man thrust his hand
through the ground glass of an office door.
The glass shivered, and crashed to the tile floor.
The pieces broke—silently. It was as though
the man had been the figure in a cinemato-
68


The Sign at Six
But for the space of a full minute these peo-
ple stood there staring upward, drinking in
the blessed sound that poured in on them
lavishly from the life of the street; drinking
deep gulps of air, as though air had lacked.
Darrow, and with him Jack Warford, had
descended more leisurely. Before leaving the
building Darrow placed the flat of his hands
over his ears, and motioned Jack to do the
same. Thus they missed the stunning effect of
receiving the world of noise all at once; as a
man goes to a bright light from a dark room.
Furthermore, Darrow returned several times
from the sound to the silence, trying to deter-
mine where the line of demarcation was
drawn. Then, motioning to Jack, he began
methodically to make his way through the
crowd.
This proved to be by no means an easy task.
Rumors of all sorts were afoot. Some bold
spirits were testing a new sensation by ventur-
7o


The Sign at Six
“I suppose you know what you're talking
about,” said Jack resignedly. “I don't.”
“You don't need to, yet. But here's what I
mean. If my theory is correct, we are likely to
be surprised still further.”
Jack ruminated; then his engaging young
face lighted up with a smile.
“All right,” said he; “I’m enlisted for the
war. What have you got to do with it?”
“I’ll explain this much,” said Darrow;
“more I'll not tell at present, even to you. If
one breath should get out that any one sus-
pected—well, this is a man-hunt.”
“Who's the man?”
“An enemy of McCarthy.”
“Whom you are going to find for him?”
“Perhaps.”
“And you were putting up that job for me
as part of your pay!”
Percy Darrow smiled slowly.
72


The Sign at Six
indeed he has discovered the method of doing
so. That is always in doubt.”
Jack's eyes were shining.
“Bully!” he cried.
“He may conceivably possess the power to
launch the fourth and dangerous arrow, but
may withhold it unless he believes himself sus-
pected or close pressed. His probable mental
processes are obscure. At present he directs
himself solely against McCarthy.” Percy Dar-
row had been thinking aloud, and realized it
with a smile. “This is one of your jobs, fel-
low detective,” said he. “You’ve got to be a
mark for me to think at.”
“I wish you'd think a little more clearly,”
observed Jack. “It sounds interesting, but
jumbled. I feel the way I did when I began to
read Greek.”
“McCarthy's incidental,” observed Darrow
in his detached tone.
“Eh P’’
74


The Sign at Six
“Oh, I thought we might as well worry Mc-
Carthy by asking him for that job on the side.
It's amusing.”
“What do you want me to do?” asked Jack.
“This,” said Darrow, with an unusual rapid-
ity of utterance. “See that thick-set, quick
man in gray clothes? He's a policeman. In a
moment he'll arrest me.”
“Arrest you—why?” demanded Jack, in
tones of great astonishment.
“I reason that McCarthy will come to that
conclusion. He is beginning to think I have
something to do with what he calls his annoy-
ances. I saw it in his eyes. This last curious
manifestation came along too pat. You re-
member, it cut off the dressing-down he was
going to give me.” Darrow chuckled in appre-
ciation. “Didn't the humor of that strike
you?”
“Me? Oh, I was scared,” admitted Jack.
“I want you to go home and tell Helen just
75


The Sign at Six
your friend. Won't this arrest ball things up?
Shall I rustle bail?”
“No,” said Darrow. “I want to think. All
I need is all the papers. I'll be out by ten to-
morrow morning, sure.”
“Why are you sure of that?”
“Because by that hour McCarthy will have
disappeared,” said Percy Darrow.
The man in the gray suit, having finished
his scrutiny, lounged forward.
“You are Mr. Darrow,” he stated.
“Sure I am, my amiable but obvious sleuth,”
drawled that young man. “Lead on.” He
nodded a farewell to Jack, and linked his arm
in that of the officer. After a few moments
he burst into an irrepressible chuckle.
“The fat, thick-necked, thick-witted, old
fool!” said he.


CHAPTER VIII
PERCY DARRow's THEORY
ERCY DARROW in the police station,
where he had been assigned an unused of-
fice instead of a cell, amused himself reading
the newspapers, of which he caused to be
brought in a full supply. Theories had begun
to claim their share of the space which, up to
now, the fact stories had completely monop-
olized. Darrow, his feet up, a cigarette de-
pending from one corner of his mouth, read
them through to the end. Then he indulged
the white walls of his little apartment with one
of his slow smiles. The simplest of the theo-
ries had to do with comets. The most elabo-
rate traced out an analogy between the “blind
78


The Sign at Six
spot” in vision and a “point of rest” in physi-
cal manifestations—this “point of rest” had
just now happened to drift to a crowded cen-
ter, and so became manifest.
“Ingenious but fantastic youth,” was Percy
Darrow's tribute to the author, Professor El-
dridge of the university.
The “human-interest” stories of both the
evening before and those in the extras de-
scribing the latest freak in the Atlas Building,
Darrow passed over with barely a glance. But
certain figures he copied carefully into his note-
book. When he had found all of these, and
had transcribed them, they appeared about as
follows:
Atlas—Wednesday, 5:25. 3:oo (about): 9
hr. 35 min.
General—Thursday, 6:oo. 7:56 (exact): I
hr. 56 min.
Atlas—Friday, Io:Io. Io:48 (exact): 38
min.
79


The Sign at Six
On the basis of these latter figures he made
some calculations which, when finished, he
looked on with doubtful satisfaction.
“Need more statistics,” said he to himself,
“before I can pose as a prophet. Just now I'm
merely a guesser.”
By now it was afternoon. An official came
to announce visitors, and a moment later
Helen and her brother came in. As Percy's
case was merely one of detention, or for some
other obscurer reason, known only to those
who took their orders from McCarthy, the
three were left alone to their own devices.
At the sight of Helen's trim tailor-clad fig-
ure Percy's expression brightened to what, in
his case, might almost be called animation. He
swept aside the accumulation of papers, and
made room for both. After the first greetings
and exclamations, Helen demanded to know
particulars and prospects.
“All right, I'll tell you,” agreed Darrow.
8o


The Sign at Six
“That sound would be cut off in the city,”
said Helen; “but Jack has already delivered
me your warning or advice,” she added.
“Precisely. Now as to theories of the ulti-
mate cause. Naturally this must have been
brought about either by nature or by man. If
by nature, it is exceedingly localized, not to
say directed. If by man, he must have in some
way acquired unprecedented powers over the
phenomena of electricity and sound. These
he can evidently, at will, either focus, as on the
Atlas Building, or diffuse, as over the city.
For the moment we will adopt the latter hypo-
thesis.”
“That it is a man in possession of extraordi-
nary powers,” said Helen, leaning forward in
her interest. “Go on.”
“We have, completed, only the phenomena
of electricity,” continued Darrow; “the phe-
nomena of sound remain to be completed. We
observe as to that (a)”—he folded back his
82


The Sign at Six
can suppose this man's stream will last nine
hours and a half when he dribbles it down on
one spot, like the Atlas Building; but it will
empty itself in about two hours when he turns
her upside down over a whole city. There re-
mains only the length of time necessary to refill
the water-pot to round out our hypothesis.
That is something more than nine hours and
something less than fifteen.”
“How do you get those figures?” demanded
Jack.
“The Unknown is anxious, after the Atlas
success, to try out his discovery on the larger
scale. He will naturally do so at the first op-
portunity after his water-pot is refilled. But he
wishes to do so at the first effective oppor-
tunity. What is the most effective moment?
The rush hours. What are the rush hours?
From eight to ten, and at six. Since he did not
pull off his show in the morning, we are fairly
iustified in concluding, tentatively, that the
84


The Sign at Six
water-pot was not full by then, and, as the
Atlas phenomena subsided at three of the
morning before, the inference is obvious.”
“But isn't the most effective time at night,
anyway, on account of the lights?” asked Jack.
“Good boy!” approved Darrow. “He might
have waited for that. But the city-wide phe-
nomena ceased at eight the night before; and
the Atlas sound phenomena did not occur until
ten the next morning—fourteen hours. Now,
the most effective time to scare McCarthy was
any time after nine. McCarthy arrives as the
clock strikes.”
Jack shook his head.
“Oh, it's not proof; it's idle hypothesis,” ad-
mited Darrow. “We shall have to test it.
But let's go on with it, anyway, and see how it
works out.”
“What's McCarthy got to do with it?” de-
manded Helen.
“That's so, you aren't in touch there.” Dar-
85 *


TIETTWT tº
PUPLIC LIBRARY
ASTOR, LE tº ox
TILDIN F C - 1 C T ONS


The Sign at Six
“They're scared already; and they're some-
what prepared by the performance this morn-
ing. Besides, I don't see yet that human agency
is suspected.”
“Don’t you think you'd better warn people
what is going to happen, and tell them there's
nothing to be frightened of?” pleaded Helen.
“No,” said Darrow, “I do not. It would con-
fuse the phenomena, and they must be uncon-
fused in order that I can either prove or dis-
prove my hypothesis. If this lasts about two
hours, the fact will go far to prove me right.
If the next manifestation comes at about ten
the next morning, we shall have established a
periodicity, at least. But if the man realizes
that his existence is suspected, he will purposely
vary in order to mix me up.”
“The next manifestation!” cried Helen.
“Then you think they will continue—”
“Why not,” smiled Darrow, “until he has
scared McCarthy out?”
- 87


CHAPTER IX
THE GREAt SILENCE - *
ERCY DARROW sat quite calmly, though
P. little hungrily, through the first of the
two hours of the Great Silence. As it fell, he
looked at his watch; then went on reading.
Strangely terrified faces flitted by the open
door of his little room. About seven o'clock
Darrow, struck by a sudden idea, arose, walked
down the corridor outside, and quite deliber-
ately set to work to force the light door. As
has been intimated, either by direct order of
McCarthy or because of some vagueness of the
orders, the young man had been confined, not
in the jail proper, but in one of the living
apartments of the wing.
89


The Sign at Six
stantly he is on the spot to corroborate by his
other faculties the warnings of the watch-dog
of the senses.
Now the watch-dog was asleep. Percy Dar-
row reflected that, were it not for the terror of
these unexplainable hours, the prisoners within
or their friends without could assail their con-
fines boldly and formidably, even with dyna-
mite, and none would be the wiser if only none
happened to be within actual visual range of
the operations. He himself quite coolly used
the iron side piece to his bed as a battering-ram
to break the locks of the door. Then he walked
down the long corridor and out through the
police station, bowing politely to the bewil-
dered officers. The latter did not attempt to
stop him.
The people in the streets were, for the most
part, either standing stock-still, or moving
slowly forward in a groping sort of fashion.
Darrow, for the second time, noticed how anal-
91


The Sign at Six
Everywhere people were touching things to see
if they were solid, or wet, or soft, or hard, as
the case might be. Even Darrow felt, absurdly
enough, that it would not be greatly serious to
jump off the top of any building into the street.
Darrow swung confidently enough down the
street. He was the only person, with the ex-
ception of the drunken truck driver, who moved
forward at a natural and easy gait. The effect
was startling. Darrow seemed to be the only
real human being of the lot. All the rest were
phantasmagoric.
But as he proceeded down-town the spell was
beginning to break. People were communicat-
ing with one another by means of pencil and
paper. Darrow was amused, on crossing the
park, to see against the lighted windows on
Newspaper Row the silhouetted forms of activ-
ity. Evidently, the newspaper men were al-
ready at work on this fresh story.
Near the corner of the park Darrow saw
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The Sign at Six
standing a policeman of his varied acquaint-
ance. The scientist walked up to this man, who
was standing in the typical vacant uncertainty,
smiled agreeably, clapped him on the back, and
shook his hand. The patrolman grasped Dar-
row's hand, but the look of groping uncertainty
deepened on his face.
Darrow slipped his note-book from his
pocket, and scribbled a few lines, which he
showed to the officer. The latter read, in-
wardly digested for a moment, and smiled.
“Keep your hair on,” ran Darrow's screed.
“This will pass in a few minutes, and it won't
hurt you, anyway. Don't look like all these
other dubs.”
He stood there companionably by the patrol-
man. They looked about them. All at once,
with this touch of normal, unafraid, human
companionship, the weird horror of the situa-
tion fell away. Darrow and his companion
were seeing humanity disjointed from its ac-
94


The Sign at Six
customed habit, as one looks on a stage full of
men hypnotized into belief of an absurdity.
Where the blotting out of electricity had
been tragic, this, as soon as its utter harmless-
ness was realized, became comic. All about
through the park men were meeting the situa-
tion according to the limited ideas developed
by a crustacean life of absolute dependence on
the shell of artificial environment. A consider-
able number of all sorts had fallen on their
knees and were praying. One fat man in even-
ing dress, with a silk hat and a large diamond
stud showing between the lapels of a fur-lined
coat, was particularly fervent. By force of
habit Darrow remarked on this individual.
“I’ll bet he hasn't been to church since he was
a kid,” he observed, of course inaudibly.
The policeman caught the direction of his
look, however, and grinned with understand-
ing.
Some stood frozen to one spot, their faces
95


The Sign at Six
agonized, as a man would stand still were the
earth likely to yawn anywhere. Darrow would
have liked to reassure these, for their eyes ex-
pressed a frantic terror. One red-faced indi-
vidual with white side-whiskers, looking
exactly like the comic-paper caricatures of the
trusts, had evidently refused to accept any ar-
bitrary dictates of natural forces. Probably he
had never accepted any dictates of any kind.
He was going from one taxicab to another,
trying to command a driver to take him some-
where, talking vehemently and authoritatively,
his face getting more and more purple with
anger. The taxicab drivers merely stared at
him stupidly.
“That old boy's kept his nerve,” Darrow re-
marked, of course inaudibly, to his companion.
“But he'll die of apoplexy if he doesn't watch
out.”
Again the policeman caught the direction of
Darrow's glance, and grinned in understand-
96


The Sign at Six
ing. He reached his huge gloved hand for the
young man's pencil and paper, on which he
wrote the name of a man high in railroad cir-
cles, and grinned again with evident relish.
At this moment an entirely self-possessed
young man swung across the street. He sur-
veyed the two men sharply a moment, then
approached, producing a sheaf of yellow paper
as he did so.
“Professor Darrow?” he wrote.
Darrow nodded. w
The young man pointed to himself, then to
the Despatch Building.
“Cause?” he wrote, and waved his hand.
Darrow shook his head.
“Dangerous?”
Darrow shook his head again.
The reporter was about to add another ques-
tion, when Darrow reached for the paper. It
was thrust eagerly into his hand. Darrow con-
sulted his watch.
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The Sign at Six
“If,” he wrote, “you will wait here four
minutes, I'll give you an interview.”
The reporter read this, and nodded.
“You’re on!” he added to the written dia-
logue. Then he produced a cigarette, lighted
it, and joined the other two men in their
amused survey of the public's performances.
During the four minutes that ensued Darrow
examined the reporter speculatively. Finally
his eye lighted up with recollection.


CHAPTER X
THE LIFTING OF THE SPELL
E spell lifted. The city broke into a
roar. People sprang into rapid and vio-
lent motion, as though released from a physical
lethargy.
“All over?” asked the reporter. He asked it
in a loud shout.
“All over,” replied Darrow. “You don't
need to yell. I’m not deaf.”
The reporter grinned.
“I guess that's what everybody else in town
is doing,” he surmised.
Certainly this remark was justified by the
sample in the square. Every man was shout-
ing at his neighbor to the lung-straining limit
º • gº º
**
99


The Sign at Six
of his ability. Three exhorters, their eyes
ablaze with fanaticism, began to thunder forth
dire warnings of the wrath to come—and
gained a hearing. Men rushed to and fro aim-
lessly. The gentleman with the side-whiskers,
who looked like the caricatures of the trusts,
having at last succeeded in making his imperial
wishes known, clambered into a taxicab, and
sat back, apparently unimpressed. After a mo-
ment the driver recovered sufficiently to fall
into the habit of obedience, and so drove away.
While the three men watched, a burly indi-
vidual with a red face came hurtling directly
at them. If they had not dodged hastily to one
'side, they would have suffered a collision.
“The end of the world is at hand!” this man
was shrieking. “Repent! Repent!”
“That's Larry Mulcahey,” remarked the re-
porter, with a grin. “He keeps bar.”
“I’m hungry,” observed Darrow. “Haven't
eaten since noon.”
IOO


The Sign at Six
“Free lunch,” suggested the reporter prac-
tically. “You won't be able to get any service
anywhere. How about that interview? Got
anything to say?”
“You’re the busy little bee to-night,” said
Darrow. “But I'll tell you what I'll do. I'll
give you a tip. Be at the Atlas Building at not
later than nine to-morrow morning, and stay at
least until ten. If you can fix it, be on the
tenth floor. Hunt up the United Wireless man
and make him talk. Then come to me.”
“That's afternoon paper stuff—unless it's
exclusive,” said the reporter instantly.
“If you'll obey my orders the most important
part of it will be exclusive,” said Darrow.
The reporter eyed him keenly.
“Why?” he asked.
“You're Hallowell, aren't you? I thought I
wasn't mistaken. I saw you at work on that
Duane Street murder case. Your work was
good. Besides, I like the Despatch—and the
IOI


The Sign at Six
afternoon papers are too soon for what I
want.”
“Last reason accepted. Others received and
placed on file.”
“All right,” agreed Darrow. “Have it your
own way—only obey orders.” He entered the
door of the bar and advanced on the lunch
Counter.


CHAPTER XI
THIRTY SECONDS MORE
T nine o'clock the following morning five
men grouped in McCarthy's office, talk-
ing earnestly. Darrow and Jack Warford had
been the first to arrive. McCarthy did not
seem surprised to see them; nor did he greet
them with belligerence.
“Well?” he demanded.
“Well?” repeated Darrow, sinking grace-
fully to one corner of the table. “You’re an
old fool, McCarthy. What good did you think
it would do you to arrest me?”
“I intended to sweat you,” confessed the
boss frankly, “but I was too busy.”
“Sweat me, eh?” demanded Darrow, with
IO3


The Sign at Six
you unless you go. The Celtic leaves to-mor-
row at noon. You must go on that ship. I
shall know whether or not you obey me. Once
more I shall warn you; one more sign shall I
send. Then I shall strike!”
“He’s getting garrulous,” remarked Darrow
reflectively; “but he's relieved my mind. You'd
better go.”
“Go!” cried McCarthy, half starting to his
feet. “Not on your life!”
Darrow surveyed him calmly.
“You’re getting rattled,” said he, “and it
doesn't pay you particularly to try to bluff me.
A jack-rabbit of average firmness could stam-
pede you in your present state of mind.”
“You think so?” sneered McCarthy.
“I know so. And you're quite right. If you
attempt the game too long, he'll destroy you.”
“How?” demanded McCarthy.
“Take my word for it, he can do it!” replied
Darrow.
105


The Sign at Six
McCarthy ruminated, drumming his thick
fingers on the desk.
“Find him,” said he, at last.
“I intend to,” replied Darrow.
“That'll be all right about your friend's job,”
conceded McCarthy, with a nod toward Jack.
“I fancy you won't have anything to do with
it,” returned Darrow pleasantly.
At this moment the door opened and Hallo-
well entered. He nodded to Darrow, and
greeted McCarthy.
“Nothing for you,” growled the latter.
Darrow glanced at his watch.
“He will have in about five minutes,” said he
to the reporter.
The fifth member of the party now entered
in the person of Simmons, the United Wireless
operator. On seeing the number gathered in
McCarthy's office he came to a halt.
Darrow immediately detached himself from
the group and approached this man.
IO6


The Sign at Six
“Anything new P” he inquired in a low voice.
Simmons glanced toward McCarthy.
“New about what?” he demanded stolidly.
“Any more messages from our mysterious
friend out in the ether to our equally mysteri-
ous friend at the desk?”
“I don't know what you mean.”
Darrow surveyed him reflectively.
“This is a pretty big story,” he said at last,
“and affects a lot of people. If you really
haven't leaked—well, he’—with a jerk of his
head toward McCarthy—“must bribe high, or
have a strangle hold on you for fair.”
He looked around to see the boss' eye fixed
intently on him, smiled pleasantly, and moved
to one side. Simmons stepped forward, handed
McCarthy a paper, and went out. The boss
read the message slowly, and turned a little
pale. After a moment or so he surreptitiously
drew out his watch. Percy Darrow smiled. He,
too, held his watch in his hand.
Io.7


The Sign at Six
“Thirty seconds more—about,” he remarked
pleasantly. The boss looked up startled. The
last thing he saw was the faintly smiling, tri-
umphant face of the young scientist. Then ab-
solute blackness fell on him.
For several seconds astonishment held the
inmates of the room chained to their places;
and for that space of time no sound broke the
deathly stillness. Then Percy Darrow spoke,
in his natural voice.
“Well, Jack,” he remarked, “it worked out,
to a second, almost. Now I'm certain.”
As though this breaking of the silence had
released a force hitherto held in repression, the
room filled with tumult and clamor, with crash-
ing, banging and scurrying of heavy bodies. A
final concussion shook the air, and then, again
abruptly, silence fell.
“Say!” Hallowell's voice spoke up, a trifle
uncertainly. “I’ll stand for most any kind of
a dark séance, but this particular spook business
IO8


The Sign at Six
is getting on my nerves. Are you there, Dar-
row P”
“Yes, I'm here,” answered the scientist.
“Well, can you explain that phenomenon?”
“That,” drawled Darrow, a slight note of
laughter in his voice, “was that extraordinary
upheaval of natural forces known as Brother
McCarthy going away from here—hastily.”
Jack chuckled.
“He hit me on the way out,” remarked that
young man. “I’ll testify he was a solid spook.”
The reporter was methodically striking
match after match, but without result. After
a moment the acrid smell of burning woolen
rose in the air.
“Are you dropping those matches?” asked
Darrow.
“Sure; they're no good.”
“Well, they're good enough to burn holes in
McCarthy's rugs. Stamp around a little to put
them out; and quit it.”
109


The Sign at Six
“What next; and how long?” asked Jack.
“What is it? Have we gone blind, or is it a
total eclipse, or what?”
“I don't know how long,” came back Dar-
row's voice calmly. “Next we will get out of
the building. I want to make some observa-
tions. Get hold of my hand; we'll have to
grope our way out.”
“If we could only get a light,” muttered
Hallowell.
“You can’t,” stated Darrow.
They felt their way down the ten flights of
stairs like blind men. A few inmates of the
building they jostled, or passed, or picked up
on the way.
“This settles it,” one remarked profanely.
“My lease quits. They can sue and be damned.
I decline to have anything more to do with any
freak-lined skyscraper of this description.”
In the lower corridors Darrow halted them.
“Here's another thing,” said he: “if I'm
I IO


. The Sign at Six
right, we should run out of this just eleven feet
beyond the last elevator cage.”
He felt his way along the grill, made four
paces forward, and uttered a little cry of satis-
faction. The two men followed him blindly.
As though stepping from one room to another
they emerged into glaring daylight!
Both involuntarily looked back. The dark-
ness hung there like a curtain, just inside the
outer walls of the building. Already a crowd
had gathered to observe this new and strange
phenomenon of the now celebrated Atlas Build-
ing. It was a curious and a facetious crowd,
but not awestricken, as it had been at the first
manifestations of this freakish upset of natural
forces.
A man observing the flight of an aeroplane
for the first time loses his sense of strangeness
inside of a few minutes; and yet flying has
been since the days of Icarus considered one of
the impossible achievements. So the general
III


The Sign at Six
experimenting with this strange palpable qual-
ity of darkness. One or two popped inside the
curtain, but emerged quickly, looking a little
scared.
A bright youth made the discovery that if one
lighted a match and stepped within the black-
ness, the match was immediately extinguished,
but that upon emerging into daylight the flame
came up again. Some one happened along with
a plumber's gasoline torch. Immediately this
was lighted and the experiment repeated. The
bearer of the torch, astonished at the instant
extinguishment of the flame, felt with his hand
to see what could be the matter. Instantly he
uttered a yelp of pain, and leaped outside, dis-
playing a badly burned palm.
“There wasn't no flame; I swear it!” he ex-
plained excitedly, “but she burned, just the
same!” He rushed about from one to another,
displaying his injured palm to whoever would
look.
II3


The Sign at Six
Darrow paid little attention to this gathering
crowd. First of all, he scanned a paper he
held in his hand; then plunged back again into
the blackness.
Jack Warford and Hallowell, left together,
hesitated uncertainly.
“He'll be back,” the reporter decided finally,
“and he's the man to tie to.”
While waiting, he proceeded to pick up what
information he could from the bystanders. It
seemed that the first intimation of anything
wrong was followed very shortly by the emer-
gence of McCarthy, disheveled, hatless, staring,
gasping. The boss had stumbled into the
street, hesitated, then started south on a run.
Before any one could stop him, he had turned
a corner and disappeared. The excitement at
the Atlas Building had distracted attention
from him. Nobody wondered at his getting
rattled and running away. The few tenants
remaining in the building had stumbled forth,
II.4


The Sign at Six
vowing never to return to such a-assorted
adjectives—building. That was all there
seemed to be to say.
In the meantime the crowd had increased
from a few hundred to thousands. Police
appeared. The corridors were cleared of all
but a few. Among these were Hallowell and
Jack Warford; the former as a reporter, the
latter as the reporter's companion. Doctor
Knox and Professor Eldridge arrived shortly.
After a time Darrow reappeared, sauntering
quite calmly from the pall of darkness, as
though emerging from behind a velvet curtain.


CHAPTER XII.
THE UNIKNOWN
T will now become necessary to glance in
passing at the personal characteristics of
Professor Eldridge. This man was in about
his fortieth year, tall, spare, keenly intellec-
tual in countenance, cold, possessed of an abso-
lute reliance on the powers of science, beyond
which his mental processes did not stray. His
manner was distinguished by a stiff unbending
formality; his expression by a glacial coldness
of steel-gray eyes and a straight-line compres-
sion of thin lips; his dress by a precise and un-
varying formalism, and his speech by a curious
polysyllabic stiffness.
This latter idiosyncrasy would, in another,
- II6


The Sign at Six
have seemed either priggish or facetiously in-
tended. With Professor Eldridge it was
merely a natural method of speech. Thus, ar-
riving once at the stroke of the dinner hour, he
replied to compliments on his punctuality by
remarking:
“I have always considered punctuality a vir-
tue when one is invited to partake of gratuitous
nourishment.”
Withal, his scientific attainments were not
only undoubted, but so considerable as to have
won for him against many odds the reputation
of a great scientist. His specialty, if such it
might be called, was scientific diagnosis. The
exactness of scientific laws was so admirably
duplicated by the exactitudes of his mind that
he seemed able, by a bloodless and mechanical
sympathy, to penetrate to the most obscure
causes of the strangest events. It might be
added that practically his only social ties were
those with the Warfords, and that the only
117


The Sign at Six
woman with whom he ever entered into con-
versation was Helen.
At sight of him Percy Darrow's lounging
gait became accentuated to exaggeration.
“Hello, Prof.” he drawled. “On the job, I
see. Good morning, Doctor,” he greeted Knox.
“What do you make of it?”
“I make of it that the Atlas Building will
shortly be without tenants,” replied the doctor;
“me, for one.”
Eldridge surveyed Darrow coldly through
the glittering toric lenses of his glasses.
“The cause of these extraordinary phenom-
ena is self-evident,” he stated.
“You mean their nature, not their cause,”
replied Darrow. “In nature, they refer back to
the interference with etheric and molecular
vibrations. That,” he added, “is a fact that
every boy in the grammar-school physics class
has figured out for himself. The cause is a
different matter.”
118


The Sign at Six
“I stand corrected,” said Eldridge. “Such
lapses in accuracy of statement are not usual
with me, but may be considered as concomitant
with unusual circumstances.”
“Right-o!” agreed Darrow cheerfully.
“Well, what about the causes?”
“That I will determine when I am satisfied
that all the elements of the problem are in my
hands.”
“Right-o!” repeated Darrow. “Well, I'll bet
you a new hat I’ll land the cause before you do.
Be a sport!”
“I never indulge in wagers,” replied El-
dridge.
“Well,” said Darrow to Jack and Hallowell,
“come on!”
Without waiting to see if he was followed,
the young man again plunged into the black
and clinging darkness.
“Get hold of my coat,” his voice came to the
others. “We’re going to climb.”
II9 r


The sign at Six
*
Accordingly they climbed, in silence, up
many flights of stairs, through the cloying
darkness. At last Darrow halted, turned sharp
to the left, fumbled for a door, and entered a
room.
“Simmons?” he said.
“Here!” came a voice.
“I thought you'd be on the job,” said Dar-
row, with satisfaction. “How's your instru-
ment? Going, eh? We are in the wireless
offices,” he told the others. “Sit down, if you
can find chairs. We'll wait until the sun is
shining brightly, love, before we really try to
get down to business. In the meantime—”
“In the meantime—” repeated both Jack and
Hallowell, in a breath. “Go on, my son,” con-
ceded the latter. “I bet we have the same idea.”
“Well, I was going to say that I'm not in the
grammar-school physics class, and I want to
know what you meant by your remark to El-
dridge,” said Jack.
I2O


The Sign at Six
“That's my trouble,” said Hallowell.
“It's simple enough,” began Darrow. “We
have had, first, a failure of all electricity; sec-
ond, a failure of all sound; third, a failure of
all light. The logical mind would therefore
examine these things to see what they have in
common. The answer simply jumps at you:
Vibration. Electricity and light are vibrations
in ether; sound is vibration in air or some solid.
Therefore, whatever could absolutely stop vi-
bration would necessarily stop electricity, light
and sound.”
“But,” objected Jack, “if vibra ion were ab-
solutely stopped, why wouldn't tiey all three
be blotted out at once?”
“Because,” explained Darrow, “the vibra-
tions making these three phenomena are dif-
ferent in character. Sound is made by hori-
zontal waves, for example, while electricity and
light are made by transverse wives. Further-
more, the waves producing elect icity and light
I2I


The Sign at Six
differ in length. Now, it is conceivable that a
condition which would interfere with hori-
zontal waves would not interfere with trans-
verse waves; or that a condition which would
absolutely deaden waves two hundred and sev-
enty ten-millionths of an inch long would have
absolutely no effect on those one hundred and
fifty-five ten-millionths of an inch long. Am I
clear?”
“Sure!” came the voices of his audience.
“That much Eldridge and any other man
trained in elementary science already knows.
It is no secret.”
“It hasn't been published,” observed Hallo-
well grimly.
“Well, go to it! The task of the independent
investigator, of which we are some, is now to
discover, first, what are those conditions, and,
second, what causes them. With the exception
of Mr. Hallowell, we all know what this guid-
ing power is.”
- I22


The Sign at Six
“Don’t get it,” growled Simmons.
“Now, look here, Simmons, you are very
loyal to McCarthy, for whatever reason, but
your loyalty is misplaced. For one thing, your
man has disappeared, and will not return. That
last message scared him out. For another
thing, we're going to need you in our cam-
paign, the worst way.”
“I’m from Copenhagen; you got to show
me,” said Simmons.
Darrow laughed softly.
“We'll show you, all right,” said he. He
sketched briefly for Hallowell's benefit the
reasoning already followed out, and which it is
therefore unnecessary to repeat here. “So
now,” he concluded, “we will consider this
hypothesis: that these phenomena are caused
by one man in control of a force capable of
deadening vibrations in ether and solids within
certain definite limits.”
“Why do you limit it?” cried Hallowell.
I23


The Sign at Six
“Because we have had but one manifestation
at a time. If this Unknown were out really to
frighten—which seems to be his intention—it
would be much more effective to visit us with
absolute darkness and absolute silence com-
bined. That would be really terrifying. He
has not done so. Therefore, I conclude that
his power is limited in applicability.”
“Isn't that a little doubtful?” spoke up Jack.
“Of course,” said Darrow cheerfully.
“That's where we're going to win out on this
sporting proposition with our dear Brother El-
dridge. He won't accept any hypothesis unless
it is absolutely copper-riveted. We will.”
“I think you underestimate Eldridge,” spoke
up Hallowell. “He’s the only original think-
tank in a village of horse troughs.”
“I don't underestimate him one bit,” coun-
tered Darrow; “but we have a head start on
him with our reasoning; that's all. He's abso-
lutely sure to come to the conclusions I have
I24


The Sign at Six
just detailed, only he'll get there a little more
slowly. That's why I want you in on this
thing, Hallowell.”
“How's that?”
“We'll publish everything up to date and cut
the ground from under him.” -
“What's your special grouch on Eldridge,
anyway?” asked Jack.
“I like to worry him,” replied Percy Darrow
non-committally.
At this moment the darkness disappeared as
though some one had turned a switch. The re-
porter, the operator and the scientist's young
assistant moved involuntarily as though dodg-
ing, and blinked. Darrow shaded his eyes with
one hand and proceeded as though nothing had
happened.
“Here are the exclusive points of your
story,” he said to Hallowell, handing him a
sheaf of yellow wireless forms. “I got them
in McCarthy's office. They are messages from
125


The Sign at Six
“‘M,’” he dictated slowly. “‘Do you get
this?’ Repeat that until you get a reply.”
Without comment the operator turned to his
key. The long ripping crashes of the wireless
sender followed the movements of his fingers.
“I get his ‘I—I,’” he said, after a moment.
“It's almighty faint.”
“Good!” said Darrow. “Give him this:
“‘McCarthy has disappeared. Can no longer
reach him with your messages.’”
“He merely answers ‘I–I,’” observed the
operator.
“By the way,” asked Darrow, “what is your
shift, anyhow? Weren't you on at night when
this thing began?”
“I’m still on at night; but Mr. McCarthy
sent me a message, and asked me to stay on all
this morning as a personal favor to him.”
“I see. Then you're still on at night?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Well, tell Monsieur X that fact, put your-
I29


The Sign at Six
self at his disposal, and tell him he'd better get
all his messages to you rather than to the other
operators here.”
“All right.”
“There's your story,” said Darrow to Hallo-
well; “it’s in those messages. The scientific
aspect will probably be done by somebody for
the evening papers. You better concentrate on
Monsieur X's connection with McCarthy.”
“Say, my friend,” said Hallowell earnestly,
“do you think I'm a reporter for the Scientific
.1merican or a newspaper?”
All three rose. The operator was busy
crashing away at his Leyden jars.
“What next?” asked Jack.
“That depends on two things.”
“Whether or not McCarthy takes the Celtic,”
interposed Hallowell quickly.
“And whether Monsieur X will be satisfied
with his mere disappearance, if he does not
take the Celtic,” supplemented Darrow. “In
I 30


The Sign at Six
any case, we've got to find him. He's unbal-
anced; he possesses an immense and discon-
certing and a dangerous power; he is becoming
possessed of a manie des grandeurs. You re-
member the phrasing of his last message? “I
am your lord and master, and my wrath shall
be visited on you. Begone!' That is the lan-
guage of exaltation. Exaltations is not far
short of irresponsible raving.”
“What possible clue—” began Jack Warford
blankly.
“When a man is somewhere out in the ether
there is no clue,” replied Darrow.
“Then how on earth can you hope to find
him?”
“By the exercise of pure reason,” said Dar-
row calmly.


CHAPTER XIII
DARRow's CHALLENGE
ITH a final warning to Simmons as to
W. dissemination of any information
without consulting him, Darrow left the room.
Hallowell listened to this advice with unmixed
satisfaction; the afternoon papers would not be
able to get at his source of information. The
reporter felt a slight wonder as to how Darrow
had managed his ascendency over the operator.
An inquiry as to that met with a shake of the
head.
“I may have to ask your help in that later,”
was his only reply.
At the corner, after pushing through a curi-
ous crowd, the men separated. Hallowell
I32


The Sign at Six
started for the wharf; Jack Warford for home
—at Darrow's request. The scientist returned
to his own apartments, where he locked him-
self in and sat for five hours cross-legged on a
divan, staring straight ahead of him, doing
nothing. At the end of that time he cautiously
stretched his legs, sighed, rose, and looked into
the mirror.
“I guess you're hungry,” he remarked to the
image therein.
It was now near mid-afternoon. Percy
Darrow wandered out, ate a leisurely meal at
the nearest restaurant, and sauntered up the
avenue. He paused at a news stand to buy an
afternoon paper, glanced at the head-lines and a
portion of the text, and smiled sweetly to him-
self. Then he betook himself by means of a
bus to the Warford residence.
Helen was at home, and in the library. With
her was Professor Eldridge. The men greeted
each other formally. After a moment of gen-
I33


The Sign at Six
eral conversation Darrow produced the news-
paper. *
“I see you have your theories in print,” he
drawled. “Very interesting. I didn't know
you’d undertaken grammar-school physics in-
struction.”
“I know I'm going to be grateful for any
sort of instruction—from anybody,” interposed
Helen. “I’m all in the dark.”
“Like the Atlas Building,” Darrow smiled
at her. “Well, here's a very good exposition
in words of one syllable. I'll leave you the
paper. Professor, what have you concluded as
to the causes?”
“They are yet to be determined.”
“Pardon me,” drawled Darrow, “they have,
been determined—or at least their controlling
power.”
“In what way, may I ask?” inquired Profes-
sor Eldridge formally.
“Very simply. By the exercise of a little
I34


The Sign at Six
reason. I am going to tell you, because I want
you to start fairly with me; and because you'll
know all about it in the morning, anyway.”
“Your idea—the one you told us yesterday—
is to be published?” cried Helen, leaning for-
ward with interest.
“The basis of it will be,” replied Darrow.
“Now”—he turned to Eldridge—“listen care-
fully; I'm not going to indulge in many ex-
planations. Malachi McCarthy, political boss
of this city, has made a personal enemy of a
half-crazed or at least unbalanced man, who
has in some way gained a limited power over
etheric and other vibrations. This power Mon-
sieur X, as I call him—the Unknown—has em-
ployed in fantastic manifestations designed
solely for the purpose of frightening his enemy
into leaving this country.”
Eldridge was listening with the keenest at-
tention, his cold gray eyes glittering frostily
behind their toric lenses.
I35


The Sign at Six
“You support your major hypothesis, I sup-
pose?” he demand calmly.
“By wireless messages sent from Monsieur
X to McCarthy, in which he predicts or ap-
points in advance the exact hour at which these
manifestations take place.”
“In advance, I understand you to say?”
“Precisely.”
“The proof is as conclusive for merely
prophetic ability as for power over the phe-
nomena.”
“In formal logic; not in common sense.”
Eldridge reflected a moment further, remov-
ing his glasses, with the edge of which he
tapped methodically the palm of his left hand.
Helen had sunk back into the depths of her
armchair, and was watching with immobile
countenance but vividly interested eyes the
progress of the duel.
“Granting for the moment your major hypo-
thesis,” Eldridge stated at last, “I follow your
136


The Sign at Six
other essential statements. The man is unbal-
anced because he chooses such a method of ac-
complishing a simple end.”
“Quite so.”
“His power is limited because it has been
applied to but one manifestation of etheric vi-
bration at a time; and each manifestation has
had a defined duration.”
Darrow bowed. “You are the only original
think-tank,” he quoted Hallowell's earlier re-
mark.
“You are most kind to place me in posses-
sion of these additional facts,” said Eldridge,
resuming his glasses, “for naturally my con-
clusions, based on incomplete premises, could
hardly be considered more than tentative. The
happy accident of an acquaintance with the
existence of these wireless messages and this
personal enmity gave you a manifest but arti-
ficial advantage in the construction of your
hypothesis.”
137


The Sign at Six
“Did I not see you in the corridor of the
Atlas Building the day of the first electrical
failure?” asked Darrow.
“Certainly.”
“Then you had just as much to go on as I
did,” drawled Darrow, half closing his eyes.
The long dark lashes fell across his cheek, in-
vesting him in his most harmless and effemi-
nate look.
“I fail to—”
“Yes, you fail, all right,” interrupted Dar-
row. “You had all the strings in your hands,
but you were a mile behind me in the solution
of this mystery. I'll tell you why: it was for
the same reason that you're going to fail a sec-
ond time, now that once again I’ve put all the
strings in your hands.”
“I must confess I fail to gather your mean-
ing,” said Professor Eldridge coldly.
“It was for the same reason that always
until his death you were inferior to dear old
138


The Sign at Six
Doctor Schermerhorn as a scientist. You are
an almost perfect thinking machine.”
Darrow quite deliberately lighted a cigarette,
flipped the match into the grate, and leaned
back luxuriously. Professor Eldridge sat bolt
upright, waiting. Helen Warford watched
them both.
“You have no humanity; you have no imagi-
nation,” stated Darrow at last. “You follow
the dictates of rigid science, and of logic.”
“Most certainly,” Eldridge agreed to this, as
to a compliment.
“It takes you far,” continued Darrow, “but
not far enough. You observe only facts; I
also observe men. You will follow only where
your facts lead; I am willing to take a leap in
the dark. I'll have all this matter hunted out
while you are proving your first steps.”
“That, I understand it, is a challenge?” de-
manded Eldridge, touched in his pride of the
scientific diagnostician.
I39


The Sign at Six
“That,” said Percy Darrow blandly, “is a
statement of fact.”
“We shall see.”
“Sure!” agreed Darrow. “Now, the thing
to do is to find Monsieur X. I don’t know
whether your curiously scutellate mind has ar-
rived at the point where it is willing to admit
the existence of Monsieur X or not; but it
will. The man who finds Monsieur X wins.
Now, you know or can read in the morning
paper every fact I have. Go to it!”
Eldridge bowed formally.
“There's one other thing,” went on Darrow
in a more serious tone of voice. “You have,
of course, considered the logical result of this
power carried to its ultimate possibility.”
replied Eldridge coldly. “The
question is superfluous.”
--
“Certainly,
“It is a conclusion which many scientific
minds will come to, but which will escape the
general public unless the surmise is published.
I40


The Sign at Six
—and he was a dear! That goes far to ex-
plain him—a gentle, wise, child-like, old man—
with imagination and a Heaven-seeking soul.
He picked me up as a boy, and was a father to
me. I was his scientific assistant until he was
killed, murdered by the foulest band of pirates.
Life passes; and that is long ago.”
He fell silent a moment; and the girl looked
on this unprecedented betrayal of feeling with
eyes at once startled and sympathetic.
“Doctor Schermerhorn,” went on Darrow
in his usual faintly tired, faintly cynical tone,
“worked off and on for five years on a certain
purely scientific discovery, the nature of which
you would not understand. In conversation
he told its essentials to this Eldridge. Doctor
Schermerhorn fell sick of a passing illness.
When he had recovered, the discovery had been
completed and given to the scientific world.”
“Oh!” cried Helen. “What a trick!”
“So I think. The discovery was purely theo-
I42


The Sign at Six
“Almost—” said Helen.
“I may have missed one of the elements of
the case—though I do not think so. I can be
practically certain when I telephoné a man I
know—or see the morning papers.”
“Telephone now, then. But why ‘when the
time comes'? Why not now?”
Darrow arose to go to the telephone. He
shook his head.
“Let Eldridge do his best. He has always
succeeded—triumphantly. Now he will fail,
and he will fail in the most spectacular, the
most public way possible.”
He lifted his eyes, usually so dreamy, so soft
brown. Helen was startled at the lambent
flash in their depths. He sauntered from the
room. After a moment she heard his voice
in conversation with the man he had called.
“Hallowell?” he said, “good luck to find
you. Did our friend leave on the Celtic? No?
Sure he didn't sneak off in disguise? I'll trust
I44


The Sign at Six
you to think of everything. Sure! Meet me
at Simmons’ wireless in half an hour.”
Helen heard the click as he hung up the re-
ceiver. A moment later he lounged back into
the room.
“All right,” he said. “My job's done.”
“Done!” echoed Helen in surprise.
“Either I’m right or I'm wrong,” said Dar-
row. “Every element of the game is now cer-
tainly before me. If my reasoning is correct
I shall receive certain proof of that fact within
half an hour. If it is wrong, then I'm away
off, and Eldridge's methods will win if any
can.”
“What is the proof? Aren't you wildly ex-
cited? Tell me!” cried Helen.
“The proof is whether or not a certain mes-
sage has been received over a certain wireless,”
said Darrow. “I’ll know soon enough. But
that is not the question; can not you get out of
town for a little while?”
I45


The Sign at Six
Helen surveyed him speculatively.
“If there is no danger, I can see no reason
for it,” she stated at length, with decision.
“If there is danger you should warn a great
many others.”
“But if that warning might precipitate the
danger?”
“Shall I go or stay?” she demanded, ignor-
ing the equivocation.
Darrow considered.
“Stay,” he decided at last. “I’ll bet more
than my life that I'm right,” he muttered.
“Now,” he continued, a trifle more briskly,
“be prepared for fireworks. Unless I'm very
much mistaken this little old town is going vari-
ously and duly to be stood on its head at odd
times soon. That's the way I size it up. Don't
be frightened; don't get caught unprepared. I
think we've had the whole bag of tricks. At
almost any moment we're likely to be cut off
from all electricity, all sound, or all light—
146


The Sign at Six
harm. We walk in safety only while we stick
to the path. If you try to act in any case on
what your judgment or your sympathies may
advise, and without consulting me, you may
cause the city, the people, and all that you
know or care for to be blotted out of existence.
Do you understand? Do you believe me?”
-
“I understand; I believe you,” repeated the
girl a trifle faintly.
Darrow left without further ceremony.
Helen stood where he had left her on the rug,
staring after him, a new expression in her eyes.
She had known Percy Darrow for many years.
Always she had appreciated his intellect, but
deprecated what she had considered his in-
dolence, his softness of character, his tendency
to let things drift. For the first time she real-
ized that not invariably do manners make the
111a11.


CHAPTER XIV
THE FEAR OF DANGER
EFORE leaving the house, Darrow sum-
B moned Jack Warford.
“Come on, old bulldog,” said he. “You're
to live with me a while now. The game is
closing down.”
“Bully,” said Jack. “I’ll pack a suit case.”
“Have it done for you, and sent down to my
place. We must hustle for the Atlas Building
now.”
“What's doing?” asked Jack, as they board-
ed a surface car.
“Absolutely nothing—for some time per-
haps. But we must be ready. And the wait-
ing will be amusing, I promise you that.”
I49


The Sign at Six
settles it. Everything's running like a catboat
in a fair wind. He's in communication with
us; he is gaining confidence in his inflated
imaginary importance; we are to have a con-
tinuance of his peculiar activities; and we can
put our hands on him at a moment's notice.”
“What!” shouted Hallowell and Jack War-
ford, leaping to their feet.
“Where is he?” demanded the reporter.
“How do you know?” cried Jack.
Simmons, his head-piece laid aside, looked
up at him in silent curiosity.
“It is sufficient for now that I do know,”
smiled Darrow. “As for how I know, that
last wireless proved it to me.”
All three men immediately bent over the
message for a detailed perusal. After a min-
ute's scrutiny, Hallowell looked up in disap-
pointment. -
“Too many for me,” he confessed. “What
is there in that?”
I52


The Sign at Six
“H'm,” observed Curtis, reading the des-
patch. “What next?”
“He’ll fulfil his threat. To-morrow even-
ing at six o'clock he will stop the vibrations
either of light, of electricity, or of sound—
probably of electricity, as he has appointed the
rush hour.”
“Most likely,” Curtis agreed.
“Warn the people to keep out of the sub-
ways, and not to get scared. Take it easy.
There's no danger. Explain why in words
of one syllable.”
“Sure.”
“Now, this is what I'm here for. Up to
now these manifestations have been harmless in
their direct effects. But follow the hypothesis
to its logical conclusion. Suppose this man can
arrest the vibrations not only of light and
sound, but also of the third member of the
vibratory trinity. Suppose he should go one
step farther; and, even for the barest fraction

I54


The Sign at Six
Darrow, “his power seems to be limited in cer-
tain directions. He apparently can stop vibra-
tions only of certain defined wave-lengths at
one time. It may be that he is unable to stop
heat vibrations at all.”
“You’ll have to do better than that,” growled
Curtis.
“The rest is faith—on your part,” replied
Darrow. “For I'll guarantee that even if Mon-
sieur X has this power, I'll stop him before
he exercises it.”
“Guarantee?” inquired Curtis.
“There's nothing to prevent my moving to
California or Mombassa if I thought myself in
any danger here,” Darrow pointed out. “It
would be very easy for me quietly to warn my
friends and quietly do the grand sneak.”
“True,” muttered Curtis, rummaging on his
desk for a pipe.
“The danger isn't the point—it's the fear of
danger,” said Darrow.
156


The Sign at Six
Curtis looked up, arresting the operation of
crowding the tobacco into the pipe bowl.
“Suppose that throughout the length and
breadth of this city the idea should be spread
broadcast that at any given moment it might
be destroyed. Can you imagine the effect?”
“Immediate exodus,” grinned Curtis. “Im-
mediate is a nice dignified word,” he added.
“Quite so, and then?”
“Eh P'
“What in blazes would four million city
people without homes or occupations do?
Where would they go? What would happen?”
“You see what I mean,” went on Darrow,
after the slight pause necessary to let this sink
in. “The fear would bring about a general
catastrophe only less serious than the fact it-
self. It's up to you newspaper men to see that
they don't catch this fear. There'll be a hun-
dred letters from foxy boys with just enough
logic or imagination to see the possibility of
I57


The Sign at Six
“Correct,” said Curtis, reaching for the desk
telephone.
Hallowell followed the visitors to the nar-
row hall.
“Now,” said Darrow in parting, “remember
what I have said. Don't mention my name nor
indicate that there is anywhere an idea that
the identity or whereabouts of Monsieur X is
by anybody suspected.”


CHAPTER XV
THE MASTER SPEAKS AGAIN
AVING thus detailed rather minutely
the situation in which the city and the
actors in its drama found themselves, it now.
becomes necessary to move the action forward
to the point where the moneyed interests took
a hand in the game.
That was brought about in somewhat more
than fifty hours.
In the meantime the facts as to vibrations
were published in all the papers; the despatches
and the relations between McCarthy and Mon-
sieur X exclusively in the Despatch—to that
organ's vast satisfaction and credit; and the
possibilities of tragedy in none. This latter
I6o


The Sign at Six
fact was greatly to the credit of a maligned
class of men. It is common belief that no
cause is too sacred or no consequence too grave
to give pause to the editorial rapacity for news.
The present instance disproved that supposi-
tion. No journal, yellow or otherwise, con-
tained a line of suggestion that anything be-
yond annoyance was to be feared from these
queer manifestations.
The consequences on a mixed population
like that of New York were very peculiar.
The people naturally divided themselves into
three classes. In the first were those who had
received their warning from logic, friends, or
the outside world; and who either promptly
left town or, being unable to do so, lived in
fear. In the second were all that numerous
body who, neurasthenically unbalanced or near
the overbalance, shut instinctively the eyes of
their reason and glowed with a devastating and
fanatical religious zeal. Among these, so ex-
161


The Sign at Six
traordinarily are we constituted, almost im-
mediately grew up various sects, uniting only
in the belief that the wrath of God was upon
an iniquitous people.
By far the largest class of all, comprising
the every-day busy bulk of the people, were
those who accepted the thing at its face value,
read its own papers, went about its business,
and spared time to laugh at the absurdities or
growl at the inconveniences of the phenomena.
With true American adaptability, it speedily
accustomed itself to both the expectation of,
and the coping with, unusual conditions. It
went forth about its daily affairs; it started
for home a little early in order to get there
in season; it eschewed subways and theaters;
it learned to wait patiently, when one of the
three blights struck its world, as a man waits
patiently for a shower to pass.
This class, as has been said, was preponder-
antly in the majority, but its mass was being
162


The Sign at Six
audience. The messages he sent over the wire-
less in the Atlas Building grew more and more
threatening and grandiose. They demanded
invariably that McCarthy should be sought out
and delivered up to a rather vaguely described
vengeance; and threatened with dire calamities
all the inhabitants of Manhattan if the Un-
known's desires were not fulfilled. These
threats grew more definite in character as time
Went On.
The effect of all this in the long run was,
of course, confusion and instability. People
laughed or cursed; but they also listened and
reasoned. Gradually, throughout the city,
dread was extending the blackness of its ter-
ror. A knowledge that would have caused a
tremendous panic if it had been divulged sud-
denly now gave birth to a deep-seated uneasi-
IneSS.
Where the panic would have torn men up by
the roots and flung them in terrorized mobs
164


The Sign at Six
through the congested ways and out into the
inhospitable country, the uneasiness of dread
held them cowering at their accustomed tasks.
They were afraid; but they had had time to
think, and they realized what it would mean
to leave their beloved or accustomed or neces-
sary city, as the case might be. And it must
be remembered that the definite knowledge of
what might be feared was not yet disseminated
among them.
But this attitude hurt business, and business
struck back. The subways were practically de-
serted; the theaters empty; the accustomed
careless life of the Great White Way thinned;
the streams of life slackened. Furthermore,
the intelligent criminal immediately discovered
that ideal shields were being provided him
gratis behind which to conduct his crimes. In
the silence a man could blow out the side of
a bank building with impunity, provided only
he kept out of sight. In the darkness he could
I65


The Sign at Six
pilfer at will, with only the proviso that he
forget not his gum shoes. The possibilities of
night crime when electricity lacks have already
been touched upon.
To meet unusual conditions the people indi-
vidually and collectively rose to heights of for-
gotten ingenuity. The physical life of a city
is so well established that the average city
dweller grows out of the pioneer virtue of
adaptability. Now once more these people
were forced to meet new and untried condi-
tions, to guard against new dangers, new op-
posing forces. In an incredibly short space of
time they grew out of aimless panic. They
learned to sit tight; to guard adequately their
lives, their treasure, and even to a certain ex-
tent their time against undue loss.
In the meantime the moneyed powers had
been prompt to act. They did not intend to
stand idly while their pockets were being
picked by untoward circumstances; nor did
I66


The Sign at Six
f
they intend to continue indefinitely the unusual
expenditures necessary to guard themselves
against even a greater loss. As there seemed
to be two men to find, they employed the best
of detectives to search for McCarthy; and
Professor Eldridge, as the greatest living ex-
pert, to hunt down the Unknown. Thus unex-
pectedly Eldridge found himself with definite
backing in his strange duel with Darrow.
It is now desirable to place before the reader
samples of the messages sent by Monsieur X
and received in the wireless office of the Atlas
Building, after which we can proceed once
more to follow out the sequence of events.
“To THE PEOPLE: The sign has been sent
you. You must now believe. The traitor is
among you, and you must hunt him down.
This is your sacred duty, for I, your master,
have laid it upon you.”
That was one of the first. After a round
dozen of similar import, there came this:
167


The Sign at Six
“To THE PEOPLE: I, your master, am dis-
pleased with you. The visitations of darkness
and of silence have been sent, but you have
heeded little. I doubt not that ye search, as I
have commanded, but you do not realize to the
full your sacred obligation. You go about
your business and you carry on your affairs.
Your business and your affairs are not so im-
portant as these, my commands. Beware lest
you draw down the wrath of the Lord's
Anointed. I am patient with your ignorance;
but give heed.”
The last at present to which your attention
is called came just before the events to be de-
tailed:
“To THE PEOPLE: Your time is drawing
short. You are a stubborn and a stiff-necked
generation. My patience is ebbing away. You
have been shown the power of my right hand,
and you have gone your accustomed ways.
You have defied the might of the Right Hand
of God. Now I will lay on you my commands.
I68


The Sign at Six
You must seek out Apollyon and deliver him
even into my hands, and that shortly. I shall
be patient yet a little while longer, for I know
that you grope in darkness and have not the
light that shines upon me. But soon I shall
strike.”


CHAPTER XVI
THE PROFESSOR's ExPERIMENT
HROUGHOUT all this excitement
Percy Darrow did absolutely nothing.
He spent all his time, save that required for
meals and the shortest necessary sleep, in a
round-armed wooden chair in the wireless sta-
tion of the Atlas Building. Jack Warford sat
with him. Darrow rarely opened his mouth
for speech, but smoked slowly a few cigarettes,
and rolled many more, which he held unlighted
in the corner of his mouth until they dropped
to pieces. He watched quietly all that went
on; glanced through such messages as came in
from Monsieur X, read the papers, and dozed.
To reporters he was affable enough in his
drawling slow fashion, but had nothing to say.
17o


The Sign at Six
“Eldridge is doing this,” he said to them;
“I’m only in the position of an interested spec-
tator.”
Eldridge had taken hold in a thoroughly
competent way. Back of the cold precision of
his undoubted scientific attainments lurked, un-
expected by most, a strong ambition and a less
admirable hankering for the lime-light. His
opportunity to gratify all these appetites—sci-
ence, advancement, and fame—was too good
not to cause him the deepest satisfaction.
“I have determined,” he told the reporters,
“that this particular instrument alone receives
the messages from the unknown perpetrator.
Our investigations must be initiated, therefore,
in this apartment.”
“How do you explain it?” asked one of the
reporters.
“I can not explain it scientifically,” admitted
Eldridge, “but I can surmise that the fact
either purposely or accidentally has to do either
171


The Sign at Six
with this instrument's location or with some
slight and undetermined peculiarity of its tun-
ing.
“You could easily tell which by moving the
instrument to another station where they aren't
getting the messages now,” suggested Darrow
lazily.
“Certainly,” snapped Eldridge, “any child
could deduce that. But I fail to see the use
or necessity for the determination at all—un-
less in a spirit of frivolous play. Our task is
not to discover where the messages can be re-
ceived, but whence they are sent.”
He gazed frostily at the man who had in-
terrupted him. Darrow smiled softly back.
“How far will your instrument carry in
sending?” Eldridge asked Simmons.
“Its extreme is about two hundred miles.”
“Then we can safely assume that a circle
drawn with a two-hundred-mile radius would
contain this man you call Monsieur X”—the
172


The Sign at Six
newspapers had adopted Darrow's nickname
for the Unknown—“since you have succeeded
in communicating with him.”
“Marvelous,” said Darrow to Jack—but un-
der his breath.
“As the sending of Monsieur X is faint, it
follows that he is somewhere near the periph-
ery of this circle, or that he is possessed of
a primitive or weak instrument. By the doc-
trine of probabilities we should be justified in
concluding against the latter supposition.”
“How's that, Professor?” asked the Morn-
ing Register man. “It doesn't get to me.”
“He is evidently a man not only of scientific
attainments, but of immense scientific posses-
sions—as is evidenced by these phenomenal
results he is able to accomplish. But we are
not justified in reasoning according to the doc-
trine of probabilities. Therefore, we shall pro-
ceed methodically. I have already made my
preparations.”
s 173
f
ſ
A-


The Sign at Six
Eldridge looked about him with an air of tri-
umph.
“I am fortunate enough to have, in the
present crisis, unlimited financial backing,” he
said. “Therefore, I am in a position to carry
out the most exhaustive of experiments.”
He stretched his hand out for a long roll,
which he laid flat upon the table, pinning down
the corners.
“Here is a map of the Eastern States,” said
he. “I have drawn a circle on it with a two-
hundred-miles radius. At this moment a pri-
vate instrument with a full crew to string
sending and receiving wires is two hundred
miles from here on the New York Central
Railroad. It has for its transportation a pri-
vate train, and it will be given a clear right of
5x
way.” He turned to Simmons. “Have you
found yourself able to communicate with this
Monsieur X at any time?”
“Communicate!” echoed sm. “Why,
174 \
\
|


The Sign at Six
he's easier to talk to than a girl who wants an
ice-cream sodal”
“Then send this: ‘Your messages have been
communicated to the people. Be patient.’”
Simmons touched the key. The spark
leaped crashing.
“What do you get?” asked Eldridge, after a
moment.
“Oh, a lot of the same sort of dope,” an-
swered Simmons wearily. “Do you want it?”
“No, it is not necessary,” replied Eldridge.
“But listen for another message from about the
same distance when he has finished.”
Silence fell on the room. At the end of ten
minutes Simmons raised his head.
“I get 'O K Q' over and over,” said he.
“Want that?”
“That” replied Eldridge with satisfaction,
“indicates that my crew on the special train in
the Adirondacks two hundred miles away has
heard your message to Monsieur X.” He
º I75
*
-


The Sign at Six
glanced at his watch. “Now, if you would be
so good as to afford me a moment's assistance,”
he requested Simmons, “I wish to disconnect
from your battery one of your powerful Ley-
den jars, and to substitute for it one of weaker
voltage. I ventured to instruct my delivery
man to leave a few in the outer hall.”
“That will weaken the sending power of my
instrument,” objected Simmons.
“Exactly what I wish to do,” replied El-
dridge.
“He’s clever all right,” Darrow murmured
admiringly to Jack. “See what he's up to?”
“Not yet,” muttered Jack.
The substitution completed, Eldridge again
glanced at his watch.
“Now,” he instructed Simmons, “send the
letters ‘QED,' and continue to do sountil you
again hear the letters “O K Q.’”
Simmons set himself to the task. It was a
long one. At last he reported his answer.
176


The Sign at Six
“He sends 'O K Q ten,” he said.
Eldridge turned to the reporters.
“That means that the substitution of the
smaller Leyden jar for one of the larger re-
duced the sending power of this instrument
just ten miles,” said he. “My crew has quite
simply moved slowly forward until it caught
our sending here.”
“Next,” he instructed Simmons, “see if you
can communicate with Monsieur X.”
The operator speedily reported his success at
that. Eldridge removed his glasses and pol-
ished their lenses.
“Thus, gentlemen,” said he, “from our circle
of two-hundred-mile radius we have eliminated
a strip ten miles wide. Naturally if this weak-
ened sending reaches only one hundred and
ninety miles, and our antagonist receives our
messages, he must be nearer than one hundred
and ninety miles. We will now further reduce
the strength of our sending and try again.”
ſ
A 177


The sign at Six
The younger men present broke into a shout.
“Good work!” somebody cried. They
crowded about, keenly interested in this new
method of man-hunting. Only Darrow, tipped
back in his chair against the wall, seemed un-
excited.
To Jack's whispered question he shook his
head.
“It’s ingenious,” he acknowledged, “but he's
on the wrong track.” That was as far as he
would explain, and soon dropped into a slight
doze.
Throughout the greater part of the night the
experiment continued. Battery by battery the
sending power of the instrument was weak-
ened. Mile by mile the special train drew
nearer until, by catching the prearranged sig-
nal, it determined just how far the new sending
reached. Then Simmons tried Monsieur X.
As the latter invariably answered, it was, of
course, evident that he remained still in the
178 


The Sign at Six
“I get him,” reported Simmons, after a mo-
ment.
“Send him anything plausible and reassur-
ing,” commanded Eldridge hastily. He turned
to his small and attentive audience in triumph.
“Thus, gentlemen,” he announced, “we have
proven conclusively that our man is located
between forty and fifty miles from New York.
If we draw two circles, with this building as
center, the circumference of one of which is
fifty, the other forty miles away, we define the
territory within which the malefactor in ques-
tion is to be found.”
The people in the room crowded close about
the table to examine the map upon which Pro-
fessor Eldridge had drawn the circles.
“There's an awful lot of country—some of
it pretty wild,” objected the Bulletin man. “It
will be a long job to hunt a man down in that
territory.”
“Even if it were as extensive a task as a
18O


The Sign at Six
hasty review of the facts might indicate,”
stated Eldridge, “I venture to assert that
enough men would be forthcoming to expedite
such a search. But modifying circumstances
will lighten the task.”
“How's that?” asked the Banner man, speak-
ing for the others' evident interest.
“We have no means of surmising the method
by which this man succeeds in arresting vibra-
tory motions of certain wave-lengths,” said
Eldridge didactically, “any more than we are
able to define the precise nature of electricity.
But, as in the case of electricity, we can ob-
serve the action of its phenomena. Two sali-
ent features leap out at us: one is that these
phenomena are limited in time; the other that
they are limited in space. The latter aspect we
will examine, if you please, gentlemen.
“The phenomena have been directed with
great accuracy (a) at the Atlas Building;
(b) at this city and some of its immediate
181


The Sign at Six
suburbs. The peculiarity of this can not but
strike an observant mind. How is this man
able, at forty or fifty miles distance, to con-
centrate his efforts on one comparatively small
objective? We can only surmise some system
of insulating screens or focal mirrors. I might
remark in passing that the existence of this
power to direct or focus the more rapid
ethereal vibrations would be a discovery of
considerable scientific moment. But if this is
the method employed, why do we not cut a
band of vibratory nullifications, rather than
touch upon a focal point?”
“Repeat softly,” murmured the irrepressible
Register man.
“Why,” explained Eldridge patiently, “are
not the people and buildings between here and
the unknown operator affected? The only
hypothesis we are justified in working upon is
that the man's apparatus is at a height sufficient
to carry over intervening obstacles. This hy-
I82 r


The Sign at Six
various messages from the Unknown, glanced
over the newspapers, and dozed.
Thus there passed two days of the search.
On the third day the intermittent phenomena
and the messages suddenly ceased. This fact
was hailed jubilantly by all the papers as indi-
cating that at last the quarry had become
alarmed by the near-coming search. From the
contracted district still remaining to be combed
over, nobody was permitted to depart; and so
closely was the cordon drawn by so large a
posse that it was physically impossible for any
living being to slip by the line.
Thus even if Monsieur X, convinced that at
last his discovery was imminent, should destroy
his apparatus or attempt to move it and him-
self to a place of safety, he would find his
escape cut off. Thousands of men were em-
ployed, and thousands more drafted in as vol-
unteers to render this outcome assured.
It was an army deployed in an irregular cir-
187


The Sign at Six
cle, and moving inward toward its center. Men
of the highest executive ability commanded it,
saw to its necessary deliberation, eliminated all
possibility of a confusion through which any
man could slip. The occasion was serious, and
it was taken seriously.
Of the outcome no one in touch with the
situation had a moment's doubt. The messages
and the phenomena had continued to come
from the danger zone. It was of coturse evi-
dent that they could not have been sent from
any portion of the zone actually searched and
occupied by the searchers. The remaining por-
tion of the zone, from which they were still
coming, had been completely surrounded.
After that the manifestations had ceased.
Therefore, Monsieur X must be within the be-
leaguered circle. To add to the probabilities,
as Eldridge pointed out, the remaining district
compassed the highest hills in the zone—a fact
on all fours with his hypothesis.
I88


The Sign at Six
On the appointed morning the army moved
toward the center. Men beat the ground care-
fully, so close to one another that they could
touch hands. As they closed in the ranks be-
came thicker. Animals of many kinds, con-
fused as the ranks closed in on them, tried to
break through the cordon and were killed.
Captains held order in the front row, that the
army might not become a crowd. Birds,
alarmed by the shouting, rose and wheeled.
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 re-
drawn. 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.
189


The Sign at Six
The railroads and steamboats were crowded
beyond their capacity. Extra trains followed
one another as close together as the block sig-
nals would allow them to run. Humanity
packed the cars. It was like a continual series
of football days. In three of them it was esti-
mated that two hundred thousand people had
left Manhattan. It would have been physically
impossible for the transportation lines to have
carried a thousand more. They had reached
their capacity; the spigot was wide open.
Percy Darrow showed Jack the head-lines to
this effect.
“Cheerful thought,” he suggested. “Sup-
pose the whole four million should want to get
out at the same time!”
Eldridge had come back to the wireless office
thoroughly bewildered. It is a well-known
fact that the exact scientist is the hardest man
to fool, but the most fooled if fooled at all.
Witness the extent to which noted scientists
I93


The Sign at Six
have been taken in by faking spiritualist me-
diums. So with Eldridge. His hypothesis
had been so carefully worked out that the fail-
ure of its logic threw his mind into confusion.
Until he could discover the weak link in his
chain of reasoning, that confusion must con-
tinue.
An hour and a half after the bulletin an-
nouncing the failure of the search had been
posted, Eldridge rushed into the wireless office.
The plague of darkness had lifted after fifteen
minutes' duration.
“Call Monsieur X,” he gasped to the day
operator. In fifteen minutes, by rapid substi-
tutions of batteries to weaken or strengthen
the sending current, he had redetermined his
previous data. Apparently, without the shadow
of a doubt, Monsieur X was within the circle.
“He may be at sea,” suggested the operator.
But Eldridge shook his head. The circle of
the sea had been well patrolled, and for days.
I94


The Sign at Six
“Begin over again,” drawled Darrow. “I
told you that you were on the wrong track.”
Eldridge glanced at him.
“I can't say that you've done much!” said
he tartly.
“No?” queried Darrow, with one of his
slow and exasperating smiles. “Perhaps not.
But you'd better get to thinking. You won't
be able always to take things easy. You may
have to hustle before long.”
“There has been, I admit,” said Eldridge
stiffly, repeating in substance the interview he
had already given out, “some flaw in our chain
of reasoning. This it will be necessary to re-
view with the object of revision. Every phys-
ical manifestation must have some physical
and definite cause; and this can be found if
time enough is bestowed on it. Often the
process of elimination is the only method by
which the truth can be determined.”
Darrow chuckled.
I95


The Sign at Six
“Look out the process of elimination doesn’t
overtake you,” he remarked.
Eldridge detailed the same reasoning, at
greater length, to the men who had employed
him. These were very impatient. Business
was being not merely impeded, but destroyed.
Their customers had no time for them; their
employees were in many cases leaving their
jobs. They called in all the help they could to
assist Eldridge's speculations, but in the end
they had to fall back on the scientist as the
best on the market. The case was not left in
his hands alone, however. After a meeting
they offered a reward to any one discovering
and putting to an end the disconcerting phe-
110111011a.
“Here's where we make money, Jack, big
money,” observed Darrow when he read this
offer. “It’ll be bigger before we get through.
You and I can have the little expedition to
Volcano Island.”
196


The Sign at Six *
“Nothing suits me better,” said Jack. “Are
you sure we'll get it?”
“Sure,” said Darrow.
Monsieur X had of course honored the wait-
ing world with a message. It followed the
fifteen minutes of darkness:
“To THE PEOPLE: I have been patient and
have stayed my hand in order that you may
learn the vanity of your endeavor. Who are
ye that ye shall strive to take me? Vanity and
foolishness is your portion. Now ye know my
power and ye will listen unto my words as to
the words of the Master. Ye must hunt down
this man McCarthy and deliver him over unto
me. If every one of you gives himself to the
task, lo! it is quickly done. Bestir yourselves
against the wrath to come!”
These events occupied the three days of the
ordered exodus. The time was further filled
with rumor that ever grew more dire. Grad-
ually business was supended entirely. Those
197


The Sign at Six
Darrow leaned back against the wall and
closed his eyes. Eldridge continued, explain-
ing the means he had taken to determine more
accurately the exact location of Monsieur X.


CHAPTER XIX
PERCY KEEPS VIGIL
T. morning of the third day after the
failure of the search, and of the sixth
since McCarthy's disappearance, had arrived.
During that time Percy Darrow, apparently in-
sensible to fatigue, had maintained an almost
sleepless vigil. His meals Jack Warford
brought in to him; he dozed in his chair or on
the couch. Never did he appear to do any-
thing.
The very persistent quietude of the man
ended by making its impression. To all ques-
tions, however, Darrow returned but the one
reply, delivered always in a voice full of rail-
lery:
2OI


The Sign at Six
“I couldn't bear to miss a single step of El-
dridge's masterly work.”
About half past nine of the morning in ques-
tion, through the door to the wireless office,
always half opened, somebody looked hesitat-
ingly into the room. Instantly Darrow and
Jack were on their feet and in the hallway.
“Helen!” cried Jack.
“What is it? Anything happened?” de-
manded Darrow.
She surveyed them both amusedly.
“You certainly look like a frowzy tramp,
Jack,” she told her brother judiciously, “and
you need sleep,” she informed Darrow.
The young scientist bowed ironically, his
long lashes drooping over his eyes in his accus-
tomed lazy fashion as he realized that the occa-
sion was not urgent. Helen turned directly to
him. -
“When are you going to stop this?” she de-
manded.
2O2


The Sign at Six
You would play with the welfare of four mil-
lion people to gratify your little personal desire
for getting evenl”
“Steady, sis!” warned Jack.
Darrow had straightened, and his indolent
manner had fallen from him.
“I have said I would permit no harm to come
to these people, and I mean it,” said he.
“No harm!” cried Helen. “What do you
call this—” -
Darrow turned to the window looking out
over the city.
“This!” he said. “Why, this isn't harm!
There isn't a man out there who is not better
off for what has happened to him. He has lost
a little time, a little money, a little sleep, and he
has been given a new point of view, a new
manhood. As a city dweller he was becoming
a mollusk, a creature that could not exist with-
out its shell. The city transported him,
warmed him, fed him, amused him, protected
204


The Sign at Six
him. He had nothing to do with it in any
way; he didn't even know how it was done.
Deprived of his push-buttons, he was as help-
less as a baby. Beyond the little stunt he did
in his office or his store, and beyond the ability
to cross a crowded street, he was no good. He
not only didn't know how to do things, but he
was rapidly losing, through disuse, the power
to learn how to do things. The modern city
dweller, bred, born, brought up on this island,
is about as helpless and useless a man, consid-
ered as a four-square, self-reliant individual,
as you can find on the broad expanse of the
globe. I’ve got no use for a man who can't
take care of himself, who's got to have some-
body else to do it for him, whenever some-
thing to which he hasn't been accustomed rises
up in front of him!”
' His eye was fixed somberly on the city
stretching away into the haze of the autumn
day.
205


The Sign at Six
single flight of stairs to the second-story room
which the mayor of that term had fitted up as a
sort of private office of his own. A sharp chill
hung in the hallways; this increased as they
neared the executive's office. Outside the door
sat the doorkeeper in his armchair. Beside
him was a dog, in the attitude of an animal
seated on its haunches, but lying on its side,
one fore leg sticking straight out. Darrow
touched the man and stooped over to peer in
his face. The attitude was most lifelike; the
color was good. A deadly chill ran from Dar-
row's finger tips up his arm.
He pushed open the door cautiously and
looked in.
“All right, Burns,” said he. “The atmos-
phere has become gaseous again. We can go
in.” With which strange remark he entered
the room, followed closely, but uncertainly by
the officer.
The private office possessed the atmosphere
2II


The Sign at Six
of a cold-storage vault. Four men occupied it.
At the desk was seated the mayor, leaning for-
ward in an attitude of attention, his triple chin
on one clenched fist, his heavy face scowling
in concentration. Opposite him lounged two
men, one leaning against the table, the other
against the wall. One had his hand raised in
argument, and his mouth open. The other was
watching, an expression of alertness on his
sharp countenance. At a typewriter lolled the
clerk, his hand fumbling among some papers.
The group was exceedingly lifelike, more so,
Darrow thought, than any wax figures the
Eden Musée had ever placed for the mystifi-
cation of its country visitors. Indeed, the only
indication that the men had not merely sus-
pended action on the entrance of the visitors
was a fine white rime frost that sparkled across
the burly countenance of the mayor. Darrow
remembered that, summer and winter, that dig-
nitary had always perspired!
2I2


The Sign at Six
Burns stood by the door, rooted to the spot,
his jaw dropped, his eye staring. Darrow
quite calmly walked to the desk. He picked
up the inkstand and gazed curiously at its
solidified contents, touched the nearest man,
gazed curiously at the papers on the desk, and
addressed Burns.
“These seem to be frozen, too,” he remarked
almost sleepily, “and about time, too. This is a
sweet gang to be getting together on this sort
of a job!”
Quite calmly he gathered the papers on the
desk and stuffed them into his pocket. He
picked up the desk telephone, giving a number.
“Ouch, this receiver's cold,” he remarked to
Burns. “Hello, Despatch. Is Hallowell in the
office? Just in? Send him over right quick,
keen jump, City Hall, mayor's second-story
office. No, right now. Tell him it's Darrow.”
He hung up the receiver.
“Curious phenomenon,” he remarked to
213


The Sign at Six
really dangerous. His activities here are in
line with his other warnings; but he is not
ready to go to extremes yet. The city is yet
safe.”
“Why?” asked Hallowell.
“I know it. But he has the power. If he
gets dangerous we must stop him.”
“You are sure you can do it?”
“Sure.”
“Then, for God's sake, do it! Don't you
realize what will happen when news of this
gets out, and people understand what it means?
Don't you feel your guilt at those men's
deaths?” He struck his hand in the direction
of the City Hall.
“The people will buy a lot of experience, at
cost of a little fright and annoyance,” replied
Percy Darrow carelessly. “It’ll do them good.
When it's over, they'll come back again and be
good. As for that bunch in there—when you
look over those papers I think you'll be inclined
215


The Sign at Six
to agree with what the religious fanatics will
say—that it was a visitation of God.”
“But the old, the sick—there'll be deaths
among them—the responsibility is something
fearful—” w
“Never knew a battle fought yet without
some loss,” observed Darrow.
Hallowell was staring at him.
“I don't understand you,” said the reporter.
“You have no heart. You are as bad as this
Monsieur X, and between you you hold a city
in your power—one way or the other!”
“Well, I rather like being a little god,” re-
marked Darrow.
Hallowell started once more to plead, but
Darrow cut him short.
“You are thinking of the present,” he said.
“I am thinking of the future. It's a good
thing for people to find out that there's some-
thing bigger than they are, or than anything
they can make. That fact is the basis of the
216


The Sign at Six
“You take her home, Jack,” he commanded,
“and return here at once. Don't forget that
nice new-blued pop-gun of yours; we’re com-
ing to the time when we may need it.”
Jack rose instantly to his mood.
“Correct, Generall” he saluted. “Where'd
you collect the plunder?” he asked, pointing
to a square black bag of some size that Dar-
row had brought back with him.
“That,” said Darrow, “is the first fruit of
my larcenous tendencies. I stole that from the
mayor's office in the City Hall.”
“What is it?”
“That,” said Darrow, “I do not know.”
He deposited the bag carefully by his chair,
and turned, smiling, to Helen.
“Good-by,” said he. “Sleep tight.”
They went out. Darrow seated himself in
his chair, drew his hat over his eyes, and fell
into a doze. In the meantime, outside, all
through the city, hell was getting ready to pop.


CHAPTER XXI
IN THE FACE OF ETERNITY
ELL popped just as soon as the news-
H papers could get out their extras. Mon-
sieur X had at last struck, and both interest
and belief urged the managing editors at last
to give publicity to all the theories, the facts,
and the latest message from the fanatic Un-
known.
The latter came about three o'clock:
“To THE PEOPLE: You have defied me, and
you have doubted my power. There is no
good in you. I, who would have saved you,
now must bring about your death as a stubborn
and a stiff-necked generation. In humanity is
no more good, and of this world I desire noth-
ing more. Prepare within the next three hours
to appear before a mightier throne than mine."
22O


The Sign at Six
Percy Darrow, reading this, said to Jack
Warford, “It is time to act,” and, accompanied
by the younger man, quietly left the room.
The reader of imagination—and 'no other
will read this tale—must figure to himself the
island of Manhattan during the next two hours.
The entire population, nearly, tried to leave it
at once. When only the suburban dwellers,
urged simply by the desire for a hot dinner,
attempt to return home between five and six,
the ways are congested enough. Now, stricken
with the fear of death, the human cattle fought
frantically to reach the inadequate exits of the
great theater of tragedy.
There was fighting in the streets, and panic,
and stark rumor, of course; and there was
heroism, and coolness, and the taking of
thought. To the little group of men in the top
floor of the Atlas Building the roar of riot
came up like the thunder of the orchestra be-
fore the rise of the curtain. Most of the people
22I


The Sign at Six
scientist. “It is at last evident that this man's
power over ethereal vibrations extends to those
forming heat-rays. If this is so, it follows
that he can cut off all life by stopping all heat.
If his threat is carried out, we can but look
forward to a repetition on a large scale of the
City Hall affair.”
The aged financier now spoke to Simmons.
“And the last report from the searchers?”
he asked formally.
“The search is being pushed, sir,” replied the
operator, “by twenty thousand men. There
remain some fifty miles of country to go over,
Mr. Lyons.”
Lyons turned his shaggy head toward a
younger, slim, keen-eyed man of fifty.
“And the city will, in your judgment, Mr.
Perkins, take how long to empty?”
“Days—in the present confusion,” said
Perkins shortly. “We can move only a limited
percentage. Thank God, most of our men are
223


The Sign at Six
At that moment the door slowly swung open
and Percy Darrow entered. He was smoking
a cigarette, his hands were thrust deep in his
trousers pockets; he was hatless, and his
usually smooth hair was rumpled. A tiny
wound showed just above the middle of his
forehead, from which a thin stream of blood
had run down to his eyebrows. He surveyed
the room with a humorous twinkle shining be-
hind his long lashes.
“Well, well, well, well!” he remarked in a
cheerful tone of voice. “This is a nice, jolly,
Quaker meeting! Why don't you get out and
make a noise and celebrate, like your friends
outside?”
“Thought you'd ducked,” remarked Hallo-
well. The others said nothing, but looked a
grave disapproval.
Darrow laughed.
“No, I had to come back to see how Eldridge
is getting on.” He cast a glance at the sci-
227


The Sign at Six
entist. “How goes it, old socks?” he inquired.
The man's manner, the tone of his voice,
seemed as much out of place in this atmosphere
of solemnity as a penny whistle in a death
chamber. Darrow refused to notice the gen-
eral attitude of disapproval, but planted him-
self in front of Eldridge.
“All in?” he challenged. “Or do you still
cherish any delusions that you will get your
man inside of"—he looked at his watch—
“eleven minutes?”
A visible stir ran through the room at these
words. “Eleven minutes!” murmured Lyons,
and held his watch to his ear. “It has
stopped,” he said aloud. “It seems, gentlemen,
that the only possible hope for us lies in the
doubt as to whether or not this Unknown will
carry out this threat.”
“He’s a first-rate hand to carry out threats,”
observed Darrow.
“We have done our best,” said Lyons calmly.
228


The Sign at Six
was looking out. From the great height of the
Atlas Building he could see abroad over much
of the city. Here and there, like glowing plan-
ets, hung the balloons.
“Clever idea,” he observed. “I'm glad you
thought of it.”
Hallowell was on his feet, his eyes shining.
“I’ve got the only paper on the job!” he
fairly shouted. “Darrow, as you love me, give
me the story. Where was he? Where did you
get him?”
Darrow turned from the window, and sar-
donically surveyed Eldridge.
“He was in the office next door,” said he,
after a moment.


The Sign at Six
ed like a flood. The old man was in the atti-
tude of one looking out intently. Once he
raised both arms, the fists clenched, high above
his head.
Darrow stole forward as quietly as he could.
When he was about half-way across the room
the old man turned and saw him. For the brief-
est instant he stared at the intruder; then, with
remarkable agility, cast himself toward the
table on which stood the wireless sender. Dar-
row, too, sprang forward. They met across
the table. Darrow clutched the old man’s
wrists.
Immediately began a desperate and silent
trial of strength. The old man developed an
unexpected power. The table lay between
them, prohibiting a closer grip. Inch by inch,
impelled by the man's iron will, his hand
forced his way toward the sending key. Dar-
row put forth all his strength to prevent.
There was no violent struggle, no noise; sim-
237


The Sign at Six
ply the pressure of opposing forces. Gradu-
ally the scientist's youth prevailed against the
older man's desperation. The hand creeping
toward the sender came to a stop. Then, all
at once, the older man's resistance collapsed
entirely. Darrow swept his arm back, stepped
around the table, and drew his opponent, al-
most unresisting, back to the window.
“Jack!” he called.
At the sound of his voice the old man gath-
ered his last vitality in a tremendous effort to
jerk loose from his captor. Catching Darrow
unawares, he almost succeeded in getting free.
The flash was too brief. He managed only
to rap the young man's head rather sharply
against a shade-fitting of the window.
The outer door jerked open, and Jack War-
ford leaped into the room, revolver in hand.
Darrow called an instant warning.
“All right!” he shouted. “Turn on the light,
next you somewhere. Shut the door.”
238


The Sign at Six
These orders were obeyed. The electric
flared. By its light the office was seen to be
quite empty save for a cabinet full of books
and papers; rows and rows of battery jars;
the receiving and sending apparatus of a wire-
less outfit; the deal table, and one wooden
chair. Darrow looked around keenly.
“That's all right, Jack,” said he. “Just get
around here cautiously and raise the window
shade. Look out you don't get near that table.
That's it. Now just help me get this man a
little away from the table! Good! Now, tie
him up. No, bring over the chair. Tie him in
that chair. Gently. That's all right. Whew!”
“You’re hurt,” said Jack.
Darrow touched his forehead.
“A bump,” he said briefly. “Well, Jack, my
son, we've done it!”
“You don't mean to say—” cried Jack.
Darrow nodded.
“Now, my friend,” he addressed the hud-
239


The Sign at Six
dled figure in the chair, “the game is up. You
are caught, and you must realize it.” He sur-
veyed the captive thoughtfully. “Tell me, who
are you?” he added. “I should know you, for
you are a great discoverer.”
The old man stared straight at his interlocu-
tor with his expressionless eyes, behind which
no soul, no mind, no vitality even seemed to lie.
Darrow asked him several more questions,
to which he received no replies. The man sat
like a captured beast.
“I’m sorry,” said Darrow to Jack. “I should
like to have talked with him. Such a man is
worth knowing; he has delved deep.”
“He'll talk yet, when he gets over his
grouch,” Jack surmised.
But Darrow shook his head.
“The man is imbecile,” he said. “He has
been mentally unbalanced; and his disorder has
grown on him lately. When I drove back his
wrist just now the cord snapped in his brain.”
24O


The Sign at Six
a time Jack followed him about, but after a
while wearied of so profitless an occupation,
and so took to smoking on the window-ledge.
Darrow extended his investigations to the
bookcase, and to a drawer in the deal table.
For over two hours he sorted notes, compared,
and ruminated, his brows knit in concentration.
Jack did not try to interrupt him. At the end
of the time indicated, the scientist looked up
and made some trivial remark.
“Got it?” asked Jack.
“Yes,” replied Darrow soberly. He reflected
for several minutes longer; then moved to the
window and looked out over the city. Abso-
lutely motionless there he stood while the
night fell, oblivious alike to the roar and crash
of the increasing panic and to the silent figures
in the darkened room behind him. At last he
gave a sigh, walked quietly to the electric light,
and turned it on.
“It's the biggest thing—and the simplest—
243


The Sign at Six
“No man has ever before attained this
knowledge or this power,” went on Darrow,
after a moment; “and probably never again
in the history of the race will exactly this com-
bination of luck and special talent occur. These
four pages are unique.”
He laid them on the edge of the table, pro-
duced a cigarette, lighted it, picked up the
four pages of formulas, and held the burning
match to their edges. The flame caught, flared
up the flimsy paper. Darrow dropped the
burning corners as it scorched his fingers. It
fell to the floor, flickered, and was gone.
Jack leaped forward with an exclamation of
dismay. The old man bound to the chair did
not wink, but stared straight in front of him,
his eyes fixed like those of an owl or a wild-
Cat.
“For God's sake, Darrow!” cried Jack War-
ford. “Do you know what you have done?”
“Perfectly,” replied Darrow calmly. “This
245


The Sign at Six
is probably the greatest achievement of the
scientific intellect; but it must go. It would
give to men an unchecked power that belongs
only to the gods.”


The Sign at Six
on the very probable supposition that our re-
ceiving instrument happened in what we may
call its undertones to be the only one tuned
to the sending instrument of Monsieur X; or it
might be because our instrument was nearer
Monsieur X's instrument than any other. This
was unlikely because of the quality of the
sound—it sounded to the expert operator as
though it came from a distance. Nevertheless,
it was a possibility. Taken by itself, it was not
nearly so good a possibility as the other.
Therefore, Eldridge chose the other.
“There were a number of other strictly sci-
entific considerations of equal importance. I
do not hesitate to say that if I had been influ-
enced only by the scientific considerations, I
should have followed Eldridge's lead without
the slightest hesitation. But as I told him at
the time, a man must have imagination and
human sympathy to get next to this sort of
thing.
25o


The Sign at Six
“Leaving all science aside, for the moment,
what do we find in the messages to McCarthy?
First, a command to leave within a specified
and brief period; second, a threat in case of
disobedience. That threat was always carried
out.”
Darrow turned to Mrs. Warford.
“With your permission, I should like to
smoke,” said he. “I can follow my thought
better.”
“By all means,” accorded the lady.
Darrow lighted his cigarette, puffed a mo-
ment, and continued:
“For instance, at three o'clock he threatens
to send a 'sign' unless McCarthy leaves town
by six. McCarthy does not leave town.
Promptly at six the ‘sign’ comes. What do
you make of it?”
Nobody stirred. -
“Why,” resumed Darrow, “how, if Monsieur
X was a hundred miles or so away, as El-
251


The Sign at Six
I shall strike,” and so forth. The Celtic sailed
at noon, without McCarthy. At twelve thirty
came the first message to the people calling
on them to deliver up the ‘traitor that is
among you.” How did Monsieur X know that
McCarthy had not sailed on the Celtic? The
answer is now unavoidable: either an accom-
plice must have sent him word to that effect,
or he must have determined the fact for him-
self.
“I eliminated the hypothesis of an accom-
plice on the arbitrary grounds of plain common
sense. They don't grow two such crazy men
at once; and one crazy man is naturally too
suspicious to hire help. I took it for granted.
Had to make a guess somewhere; but, contrary
to our legal friends, I believe that enough co-
incidences indicate a certainty. But if Mon-
sieur X himself saw the Celtic sail without
McCarthy, and got back to his instrument
within a half-hour, it was evident he could not
253


The Sign at Six
be quite so far away as Eldridge and the rest
of them thought.”
“One thing,” spoke up Jack, “I often won-
dered what you whispered to Simmons to in-
duce him to pass those messages over to you.
Mind telling?”
“Not a bit. Simmons is an exceptional man.
He has nerve and intelligence. I just pointed
out to him the possibility that Monsieur X
might have control over heat vibrations. He
saw the public danger at once, and realized
that McCarthy's private rights in those mes-
sages had suddenly become very small.”
Jack nodded. “Go ahead,” said he.
“I had already,” proceeded Darrow, “found
out where the next wireless station is located.
Monsieur X must be nearer the Atlas station
than to this other. It was, therefore, easy to
draw a comparatively small circle within which
he must be located.”
“So far, so good,” said Helen. “How did
254


The Sign at Six
you finally come to the conclusion that Mon-
sieur X was in the next office?”
“Do you remember,” Darrow asked Jack,
“how the curtain of darkness hung about ten
or twelve feet inside the corridor of the Atlas
Building?”
“Sure,” replied Jack.
“And do you remember that while the rest
of you, including Eldridge, were occupied
rather childishly with the spectacular side of
it, I had disappeared inside the blackness?”
“Certainly.”
“Well, in that time I determined the exact
extent of the phenomena. I found that it ex-
tended in a rough circle. And when I went
outside and looked up—something every one
else was apparently too busy to do—I saw that
this phenomenon of darkness also extended
above the building, out into open space. At
the moment I noted the fact merely, and tried
to fix in my own mind approximately the di-
255


The Sign at Six
mensions. Then here is another point: when
the city-wide phenomena took place, I again
determined their extent. To do so I did not
have to leave my chair. The papers did it for
me. They took pains to establish the farthest
points to which these modern plagues of Man-
hattan reached.”
Darrow selected several clippings from his
bundle of papers.
“Here are reports indicating Highbridge,
Corona, Flatbush, Morrisania, Fort Lee, Bay
Ridge as the farthest points at which the phe-
nomena were manifested. It occurred to no-
body to connect these points with a pencil line.
If that line is made curved, instead of straight,
it will be found to constitute a complete circle
whose center is the Atlas Building!”
The audience broke into exclamations.
“Going back to my former impressions, I
remembered that the pall of blackness extended
this far and that far in the various directions,
256


The Sign at Six
so that it required not much imagination to
visualize it as a sphere of darkness. And
strangely enough the center of that sphere
seemed to be located somewhere near the floor
on which were installed the United Wireless
instruments. It at once became probable that
what we may call the nullifying impulses radi-
ated in all directions through the ether from
their sending instrument.
“Next I called upon the janitor of the Atlas
Building, representing myself as looking for a
suitable office from which to conduct my in-
vestigations. In this manner I gained admis-
sion to all unrented offices. All were empty.
I then asked after the one next door, but was
told it was rented as a storeroom by an ec-
centric gentleman now away on his travels.
That was enough. I now knew that we had
to do with a man next door, and not miles
distant, as purely scientific reasoning would
seem to prove.”
257


The Sign at Six
“You mean at about two o'clock in the
morning,” amended Darrow.
“Ehf Yes, it was about two. But how did
he get on to what Eldridge was doing?”
“He read it in the paper,”
“At twelve the reporters left. At a little be-
fore two our enterprising friend, the Despatch,
replied Darrow.
issued an extra in its usual praiseworthy effort
to enlighten the late Broadway jag. Monsieur
X read it, and knew exactly what was up.”
“How do you know?”
“Because I read the extra myself.”
“But even then?”
“Then he began to pay more attention. It
was easy enough to fake when he knew what
was doing. For all I know, he could hear
Eldridge giving his directions.”
The company present ruminated over the
disclosures thus far made.
“About the City Hall affair?” asked Helen
finally.
259





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