"We've got dozens of coils of hook-up wire," Deston said, "but not too many miles and it's soft stuff." "Graham wire!" Jones snapped his finger. "Of course," Deston agreed. "Hundreds of miles of it. Float the senser down on a Hotchkiss " "Tear-out." Jones objected. "Bailey it spidered out to twenty or so big, flat feet.

"That's my cap isn't it?" Yards away was Jack's cap, and Raffles brought it. His face was white white above a bit. There was a clean cut through the brim, and a neat, straightforward tear-out of an inch or so of the front just above the crest. "Well," said Raffles, looking narrowly at that business-like damage. "All I can say is you're lucky." "Lucky! Yes," said Jack. "I suppose I'd better go.