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Updated: May 10, 2025
Her voice died on a dead silence. Miss Thornton, beginning to gather up veil and gloves and handbag scattered on the table, pursed her lips virtuously. Miss Cashell manicured steadily. Miss Sherman bit off a thread. "It's nothing at all!" said Elsie Kirk, at last. "My sister's got a headache, that's all, and she doesn't feel well." She patted the bowed shoulders.
You look rather " "The chair startled me," I answered. "It was so sudden in this quiet." Young Mr. Cashell behind his shut door was offendedly silent. "I suppose I must have been dreaming," said Mr. Shaynor. "I suppose you must," I said. "Talking of dreams I I noticed you writing before " He flushed consciously. "I meant to ask you if you've ever read anything written by a man called Keats." "Oh!
Cashell, there is something coming through here, too. Leave me alone till I tell you." "But I thought you'd come to see this wonderful thing Sir," indignantly at the end. "Leave me alone till I tell you. Be quiet." I watched I waited.
Cashell was adjusting some wire that crackled from time to time with the tense, knuckle-stretching sound of the electric spark. Upstairs, where a door shut and opened swiftly, I could hear his uncle coughing abed. "Here," I said, when the drink was properly warmed, "take some of this, Mr. Shaynor." He jerked in his chair with a start and a wrench, and held out his hand for the glass.
Cashell, busy in the back office. He laughed shortly when I told him that Mr. Shaynor had stepped out but a frail coil of wire held all his attention, and he had no word for me bewildered among the batteries and rods. The noise of the sea on the beach began to make itself heard as the traffic in the street ceased.
It reminds me of that sometimes odds and ends of messages coming out of nowhere a word here and there no good at all." "But mediums are all impostors," said Mr. Shaynor, in the doorway, lighting an asthma-cigarette. "They only do it for the money they can make. I've seen 'em." "Here's Poole, at last clear as a bell. L.L.L. Now we sha'n't be long." Mr. Cashell rattled the keys merrily.
"On its own account." "Then let's see if I've got it correctly. Miles off, at Poole, or wherever it is " "It will be anywhere in ten years." "You've got a charged wire " "Charged with Hertzian waves which vibrate, say, two hundred and thirty million times a second." Mr. Cashell snaked his forefinger rapidly through the air. "All right a charged wire at Poole, giving out these waves into space.
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