"Let me give you a demonstration, first," added the captain.
"Perhaps Z99 will work--perhaps not."
There was an air of disappointment about the old veteran as he
spoke, uncertainly now, of what a short time ago he had known to
be a certainty and one of the greatest it had ever been given the
inventive mind of man to know.
A slip of a girl entered from the library, saw us, paused, and was
about to turn back. Silhouetted against the curtained door, there
was health, animation, gracefulness, in every line of her wavy
chestnut hair, her soft, sparkling brown eyes, her white dress and
hat to match, which contrasted with the healthy glow of tan on her
full neck and arms, and her dainty little white shoes, ready for
anything from tennis to tango.
"My daughter Gladys, Professor Kennedy and Mr. Jameson,"
introduced the captain. "We are going to try the Z99 again,
Gladys."
A moment later we four were walking to the edge of the cliff where
Captain Shirley had a sort of workshop and signal-station.
He lighted the gas, for Lookout Hill was only on the edge of the
town and boasted gas, electricity, and all modern improvements, as
well as the atmosphere of old New England.
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