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Updated: June 16, 2025
"Haven't you done anything yet, after all this time?" demanded the magnate. "We're getting tired of this delay." "I can't help it, Mr. Brookings," replied the subordinate. "They've got detectives from Prescott's all over the place. Our best men have been trying ever since the day of the explosion, but can't do a thing without resorting to violence.
In the busiest part of the afternoon Chambers rushed unannounced into Brookings' private office. His face was white as chalk. "Read that, Mr. Brookings!" he gasped, thrusting the Clarion extra into his hand. Brookings read the news of the explosion, then looked at his chief chemist, his face turning gray. "Yes, sir, that was our laboratory," said Chambers, dully. "The fool!
"Brookings?" he asked, cautiously. "This is DuQuesne. I must see you immediately. There's something big started that may as well belong to us.... No, can't say anything over the telephone.... Yes, I'll be right out."
But we can do nothing until the steel arrives, and with the guard Prescott has here now we are safe enough. Luckily, the enemy knows nothing of the object-compass or the X-plosive, and we must keep them in ignorance. Hereinafter, not even the guards get a look at anything we do." "They sure don't. Let's get busy!" DuQuesne and Brookings met in conference in a private room of the Perkins Café.
After a short pause a voice said, "This is Anna Anderson of Brookings, S. D. Do you remember promising Grandma H., when you were pastor here, that you would officiate at her funeral? She died this morning and is to be buried on Tuesday. Can you come?" I told her I would come.
"Yes, here it is," drawing the bottle from his pocket. "Where's the rest of it?" asked DuQuesne as he noted the size of the bottle. "All that we found is here, except about a teaspoonful which the expert had to work on," replied Brookings. "We didn't get it all, only half of it. The rest of it was diluted with water, so that it wouldn't be missed.
If you can't take care of your own prisoner she earns her liberty, as far as I am concerned. I never did like your style, Perkins, especially your methods of handling or rather mishandling women. You could have made her give up the stuff she recovered from that ass Brookings inside of an hour, and wouldn't have had to kill her afterward, either." "How?" sneered the other.
As soon as the job was done he would find, upon again attempting to use the telephone, that its interior was so hopelessly wrecked that not even the most skilled artisan could reproduce what it had once been. At four o'clock Brookings was ushered into the private office of the master criminal, who was plainly ill at ease. "I've got to report another failure, Mr. Brookings.
"There he is now," said Perkins, as he took out his wireless instrument. "You might listen in and hear what he has to say." Brookings took out his own telephone and held it to his ear. "Hello," Perkins spoke gruffly into the tiny transmitter. "What've you got on your chest?" "Your foot slipped on the Jap," the stranger replied. "He crabbed the game right.
Brookings has been listening to some lunatic who claims to have solved the mystery of liberating intra-atomic energy." "That's old stuff," the assistant said, laughing. "That and perpetual motion are always with us. What did you tell him?" "I didn't get a chance to tell him anything he told me.
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