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Updated: May 15, 2025
There he found the buzzer of his little desk-telephone intermittently calling him. "Yes, hello?" he answered, receiver at ear, as he sat down in the swivel-chair of aluminum with its hydrogen cushion. The voice of the wireless man, Menendez, reached him. In a soft, Spanish-accented kind of drawl, Menendez said: "Just picked up two important radios, sir." "Well? What are they?"
Between sentences he picked up the desk-telephone and called a private number. "I want to talk to Mr. Carter.... Not at home! Where is he?... Doesn't want to be disturbed he's got to be.... Yes, this is Hamilton Burton.... At the opera, you say? Thank you." The snap of the receiver under his finger was abrupt and decisive as he again called central, and while he waited he talked to Tarring.
"Unless it's a habit with the operator to occasionally sound the three dots that make up the letter S in the Morse alphabet unconsciously, you know, and just as another man, in speaking, might stutter or continually introduce a hesitating 'er' or 'um." "Impossible." "Nothing is impossible, my dear fellow." Here the bell of the desk-telephone rang.
Trenholm of the Amalgamated Press," I told the clerk in the steamship office over the hotel's desk-telephone. "Simply must get to Hong-Kong as soon as possible, and would like to go in the Kut Sang this afternoon. May I buy passage in her?" It was hard to make him understand, for he was a Filipino who insisted on speaking English, although I had a working knowledge of Spanish.
Anyhow, if you'll risk it they've got a job for you in Shed Number Two cutting and squaring for a while forty cents an hour eight hour day. I'll telephone to the boss if you want it." "I do." He took up the desk-telephone and gave his message. "It's all right." He drew out a ledger from beneath the desk. "What's your letter?" "Letter?" The man looked startled for a moment.
They were his rock of refuge in any cataclysm that might impend. If only he could keep those cuffs within his range of vision he would fear nothing. Patent laundry tubs; five dollars saved; why your husband failed in business; bright and interesting future "'Lo! 'Lo!" Breede was detonating into the desk-telephone which had sounded at his elbow. "'Lo! Well? What? Run off! Stop nonsense! Busy!"
Resolutely he forced himself to consider the plans he had laid out; his success thus far; the means he meant to take with the attacking squadrons; the consummation of his whole campaign so vast, so overpowering in its scope. But through it all, persisted other thoughts. And these, he found, he could not put away. The buzzer of the desk-telephone again recalled him to himself. "Hello, hello?"
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