The Poisoned Pen(Fiscle Part-3) by Arthur B. Reeve (top 10 motivational books .txt) 📕

Motion Which Will Give Us A Pretty Good Line On What Is Taking

Place In A Day Or So."

Orton's Face Fell,  But He Said Nothing. He Bit His Lip Nervously

And Looked Out Of The Sun-Parlour At The Roofs Of New York Around

Him.

"What Has Happened Since Last Night To Increase Your Anxiety,

Jack?" Asked Craig Sympathetically.

Orton Wheeled His Chair About Slowly,  Faced Us,  And Drew A Letter

From His Pocket. Laying It Flat On The Table He Covered The Lower

Part With The Envelope.

"Read That," He Said.

"Dear Jack," It Began. I Saw At Once That It Was From Miss Taylor.

"Just A Line," She Wrote,  "To Let You Know That I Am Thinking

About You Always And Hoping That You Are Better Than When I Saw

You This Evening. Papa Had The Chairman Of The Board Of Directors

Of The Five-Borough Here Late To-Night,  And They Were In The

Library For Over An Hour. For Your Sake,  Jack,  I Played The

Eavesdropper,  But They Talked So Low That I Could Hear Nothing,

Though I Know They Were Talking About You And The Tunnel. When

They Came Out,  I Had No Time To Escape,  So I Slipped Behind A

Portiere. I Heard Father Say: 'Yes,  I Guess You Are Right,  Morris.

The Thing Has Gone On Long Enough. If There Is One More Big

Accident We Shall Have To Compromise With The Inter-River And

Carry On The Work Jointly. We Have Given Orton His Chance,  And If

They Demand That This Other Fellow Shall Be Put In,  I Suppose We

Shall Have To Concede It.' Mr. Morris Seemed Pleased That Father

Agreed With Him And Said So. Oh,  Jack,  Can't You Do Something To

Show Them They Are Wrong,  And Do It Quickly? I Never Miss An

Opportunity Of Telling Papa It Is Not Your Fault That All These

Delays Take Place."

The Rest Of The Letter Was Covered By The Envelope,  And Orton

Would Not Have Shown It For Worlds.

"Orton," Said Kennedy,  After A Few Moments' Reflection,  "I Will

Take A Chance For Your Sake--A Long Chance,  But I Think A Good

One. If You Can Pull Yourself Together By This Afternoon,  Be Over

At Your Office At Four. Be Sure To Have Shelton And Capps There,

And You Can Tell Mr. Taylor That You Have Something Very Important

To Set Before Him. Now,  I Must Hurry If I Am To Fulfil My Part Of

The Contract. Good-Bye,  Jack. Keep A Stiff Upper Lip,  Old Man.

I'll Have Something That Will Surprise You This Afternoon."

Outside,  As He Hurried Uptown,  Craig Was Silent,  But I Could See

His Features Working Nervously,  And As We Parted He Merely Said:

"Of Course,  You'll Be There,  Walter. I'll Put The Finishing

Touches On Your Story Of High Finance."

Slowly Enough The Few Hours Passed Before I Found Myself Again In

Orton's Office. He Was There Already,  Despite The Orders Of His

Physician,  Who Was Disgusted At This Excursion From The Hospital.

Kennedy Was There,  Too,  Grim And Silent. We Sat Watching The Two

Indicators Beside Orton's Desk,  Which Showed The Air Pressure In

The Two Tubes. The Needles Were Vibrating Ever So Little And

Tracing A Red-Ink Line On The Ruled Paper That Unwound From The

Drum. From The Moment The Tunnels Were Started,  Here Was Preserved

A Faithful Record Of Every Slightest Variation Of Air Pressure.

"Telephone Down Into The Tube And Have Capps Come Up," Said Craig

At Length,  Glancing At Orton's Desk Clock. "Taylor Will Be Here

Pretty Soon,  And I Want Capps To Be Out Of The Tunnel By The Time

He Comes. Then Get Shelton,  Too."

In Response To Orton's Summons Capps And Shelton Came Into The

Office,  Just As A Large Town Car Pulled Up Outside The Tunnel

Works. A Tall,  Distinguished-Looking Man Stepped Out And Turned

Again Toward The Door Of The Car.

"There's Taylor," I Remarked,  For I Had Seen Him Often At

Investigations Before The Public Service Commission.

"And Vivian,  Too," Exclaimed Orton Excitedly. "Say,  Fellows,  Clear

Off These Desks. Quick,  Before She Gets Up Here. In The Closet

With These Blueprints,  Walter. There,  That's A Little Better. If I

Had Known She Was Coming I Would At Least Have Had The Place Swept

Out. Puff! Look At The Dust On This Desk Of Mine. Well,  There's No

Help For It. There They Are At The Door Now. Why,  Ivian,  What A

Surprise."

"Jack!" She Exclaimed,  Almost Ignoring The Rest Of Us And Quickly

Crossing To His Chair To Lay A Restraining Hand On His Shoulder As

He Vainly Tried To Stand Up To Welcome Her.

"Why Didn't You Tell Me You Were Coming?" He Asked Eagerly. "I

Would Have Had The Place Fixed Up A Bit."

"I Prefer It This Way," She Said,  Looking Curiously Around At The

Samples Of Tunnel Paraphernalia And The Charts And Diagrams On The

Walls.

"Yes,  Orton," Said President Taylor,  "She Would Come--Dropped In

At The Office And When I Tried To Excuse Myself For A Business

Appointment,  Demanded Which Way I Was Going. When I Said I Was

Coming Here,  She Insisted On Coming,  Too."

Orton Smiled. He Knew That She Had Taken This Simple And Direct

Means Of Being There,  But He Said Nothing,  And Merely Introduced

Us To The President And Miss Taylor.

An Awkward Silence Followed. Orton Cleared His Throat. "I Think

You All Know Why We Are Here," He Began. "We Have Been And Are

Having Altogether Too Many Accidents In The Tunnel,  Too Many Cases

Of The Bends,  Too Many Deaths,  Too Many Delays To The Work. Well--

Er--I--Er--Mr. Kennedy Has Something To Say About Them,  I

Believe."

No Sound Was Heard Save The Vibration Of The Air-Compressors And

An Occasional Shout Of A Workman At The Shaft Leading Down To The

Air-Locks.

"There Is No Need For Me To Say Anything About Caisson Disease To

You,  Gentlemen,  Or To You,  Miss Taylor," Began Kennedy. "I Think

You All Know How It Is Caused And A Good Deal About It Already.

But,  To Be Perfectly Clear,  I Will Say That There Are Five Things

That Must,  Above All Others,  Be Looked After In Tunnel Work: The

Air Pressure,  The Amount Of Carbon Dioxide In The Air,  The Length

Of The Shifts Which The Men Work,  The State Of Health Of The Men

As Near As Physical Examination Can Determine It,  And The Rapidity

With Which The Men Come Out Of The 'Air,' So As To Prevent

Carelessness Which May Cause The Bends.

"I Find," He Continued,  "That The Air Pressure Is Not Too High For

Safety. Proper Examinations For Carbon Dioxide Are Made,  And The

Amount In The Air Is Not Excessive. The Shifts Are Not Even As

Long As Those Prescribed By The Law. The Medical Inspection Is

Quite Adequate And As For The Time Taken In Coming Out Through The

Locks The Rules Are Stringent."

A Look Of Relief Crossed The Face Of Orton At This Commendation Of

His Work,  Followed By A Puzzled Expression That Plainly Indicated

That He Would Like To Know What Was The Matter,  If All The Crucial

Things Were All Right.

"But," Resumed Kennedy,  "The Bends Are Still Hitting The Men,  And

There Is No Telling When A Fire Or A Blow-Out May Occur In Any Of

The Eight Headings That Are Now Being Pushed Under The River.

Quite Often The Work Has Been Delayed And The Tunnel Partly Or

Wholly Flooded. Now,  You Know The Theory Of The Bends. It Is That

Air--Mostly The Nitrogen In The Air--Is Absorbed By The Blood

Under The Pressure. In Coming Out Of The 'Air' If The Nitrogen Is

Not All Eliminated,  It Stays In The Blood And,  As The Pressure Is

Reduced,  It Expands. It Is Just As If You Take A Bottle Of Charged

Water And Pull The Cork Suddenly. The Gas Rises In Big Bubbles.

Cork It Again And The Gas Bubbles Cease To Rise And Finally

Disappear. If You Make A Pin-Hole In The Cork The Gas Will Escape

Slowly,  Without A Bubble. You Must Decompress The Human Body

Slowly,  By Stages,  To Let The Super-Saturated Blood Give Up Its

Nitrogen To The Lungs,  Which Can Eliminate It. Otherwise These

Bubbles Catch In The Veins,  And The Result Is Severe Pains,

Paralysis,  And Even Death. Gentlemen,  I See That I Am Just Wasting

Time Telling You This,  For You Know It All Well. But Consider."

Kennedy Placed An Empty Corked Flask On The Table. The Others

Regarded It Curiously,  But I Recalled Having Seen It In The

Tunnel.

"In This Bottle," Explained Kennedy,  "I Collected Some Of The Air

From The Tunnel When I Was Down There This Morning. I Have Since

Analysed It. The Quantity Of Carbon Dioxide Is Approximately What

It Should Be--Not High Enough Of Itself To Cause Trouble. But," He

Spoke Slowly To Emphasise His Words,  "I Found Something Else In

That Air Beside Carbon Dioxide."

"Nitrogen?" Broke In Orton Quickly,  Leaning Forward.

"Of Course; It Is A Constituent Of Air. But That Is Not What I

Mean."

"Then,  For Heaven's Sake,  What Did You Find?" Asked Orton.

"I Found In This Air," Replied Kennedy,  "A Very Peculiar Mixture--

An Explosive Mixture."

"An Explosive Mixture?" Echoed Orton.

"Yes,  Jack,  The Blow-Outs That You Have Had At The End Of The

Tunnel Were Not Blow-Outs At All,  Properly Speaking. They Were

Explosions."

We Sat Aghast At This Revelation.

"And,  Furthermore," Added Kennedy,  "I Should,  If I Were You,  Call

Back All The Men From The Tunnel Until The Cause For The Presence

Of This Explosive Mixture Is Discovered And Remedied."

Orton Reached Mechanically For The Telephone To Give The Order,

But Taylor Laid His Hand On His Arm. "One Moment,  Orton," He Said.

"Let's Hear Professor Kennedy Out. He May Be Mistaken,  And There

Is No Use Frightening The Men,  Until We Are Certain."

"Shelton," Asked Kennedy,  "What Sort Of Flash Oil Is Used To

Lubricate The Machinery?"

"It Is Three-Hundred-And-Sixty-Degree Fahrenheit Flash Test," He

Answered Tersely.

"And Are The Pipes Leading Air Down Into The Tunnel Perfectly

Straight?"

"Straight?"

"Yes,  Straight--No Joints,  No Pockets Where Oil,  Moisture,  And

Gases Can Collect."

Straight As Lines,  Kennedy," He Said With A Sort Of Contemptuous

Defiance.

They Were Facing Each Other Coldly,  Sizing Each Other Up. Like A

Skilful Lawyer,  Kennedy Dropped That Point For A Moment,  To Take

Up A New Line Of Attack.

"Capps," He Demanded,  Turning Suddenly,  "Why Do You Always Call Up

On The Telephone And Let Some One Know When You Are Going Down In

The Tunnel And When You Are Coming Out?"

"I Don't," Replied Capps,  Quickly Recovering His Composure.

"Walter," Said Craig To Me Quietly,  "Go Out In The Outer Office.

Behind The Telephone Switchboard You Will Find A Small Box Which

You Saw Me Carry In There This Morning And Connect With The

Switchboard. Detach The Wires,  As You Saw Me Attach Them,  And

Bring It Here."

No One Moved,  As I Placed The Box On A Drafting-Table Before Them.

Craig Opened It. Inside He Disclosed A Large Disc Of Thin Steel,

Like Those Used By Some Mechanical Music-Boxes,  Only Without Any

Perforations. He Connected The Wires From The Box To A Sort Of

Megaphone. Then He Started The Disc Revolving.

Out Of The Little Megaphone Horn,  Sticking Up Like A Miniature

Talking-Machine,  Came A Voice: "Number Please. Four Four Three O,

Yorkville. Busy,  I'll Call You. Try Them Again,  Central. Hello,

Hello,  Central--"

Kennedy