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Updated: May 17, 2025
"Haroun el Raschid there would agree with me on that point, I have no doubt. What a shock he would get if he should happen up at Atlantic City for a week-end in August!" "Dot-dash-dot! Dot-dash-dot! Dot-dash-dot!" Mr. Grimm read it with perfect understanding; it was "F F F" in the Morse code, the call of one operator to another. Was it accident? Mr.
"Dash-dot! Dot! Dot-dash! Dot-dash-dot!" "N e a f." Mr. Grimm was still spelling it out. Then came a perfect jumble. Mr. Grimm followed it with difficulty, a difficulty utterly belied by the quizzical lines about his mouth. As he caught it, it was like this: "J 5 n s e f v a t 5 f," followed by an arbitrary signal which is not in the Morse code: "Dash-dot-dash-dash!" Mr.
"S t 5 u t," Mr. Grimm read in Morse. He laughed pleasantly at some remark of his companion. "Dash-dash! Dot-dash! Dash-dot!" said the fan. "M a n," Mr. Grimm spelled it out, the while his listless eyes roved aimlessly over the throng. "S t 5 u t m a n!" Was it meant for "stout man?" Mr. Grimm wondered. "Dot-dash-dot! Dot! Dash-dot-dot!" "F e d," that was. "Dot-dot-dash-dot! Dot-dash!
Grimm glanced idly toward Miss Thorne. She was still talking, her face alive with interest; and the fan was still tapping rhythmically, steadily, now on the arm of her chair. "Dot-dash-dot! Dot-dash-dot! Dot-dash-dot! Dot-dash-dot!" "Pretty women who don't want to be stared at should go with their faces swathed," Mr. Grimm suggested indolently.
She was talking and smiling. "Dot-dash-dot! Dot-dash-dot! Dot-dash-dot!" said the fan. Mr. Grimm twisted around in his seat and regaled his listless eyes with a long stare into the señorita's pretty face. Behind the careless ease of repose he was mechanically isolating the faint clatter of the fan. "Dot-dash-dot! Dot-dash-dot! Dot-dash-dot!" "Did any one ever accuse you of staring, Mr.
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