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Page 42
"There isn't a place to put this transmitter except up above that
chandelier," she said at length.
He gave her his hand as she stepped on a chair and then on the
table. There was a glimpse of a trim ankle. The warmth and softness
of her touch caused him to hold her hand just a moment longer than
was absolutely necessary. A moment later he was standing on the
table beside her.
"This is the place, all right," she said, looking at the thick scum
of dust on the top of the reflector.
Quickly she placed the little black disc close to the center on the
top of the reflector. "Can you see that from the floor?" she asked.
"No," he answered, walking about the room, "not a sign of it."
"I'll sit here," she said in just a tremor of excitement over the
adventure, "and listen while you talk in the board room."
Brainard entered. It seemed ridiculous for him to talk to himself.
"If the microphone works," he said at length, "rap on the desk
twice." Then he added, half laughing to himself, "If it doesn't, rap
once--Constance."
A single rap came in answer.
"If you couldn't hear," he smiled entering her office, "why did you
rap once!"
"It didn't work smoothly on that last word."
"What--Constance?"
He thought there was a subtle change in their relations since the
microphone incident. At any rate she was not angry. Were they not
partners?
"I think it will be better if I turn that microphone around," she
remarked. "I placed it face downwards. Let me change it."
Again he helped her as she jumped up on the board room table. This
time his hand lingered a little longer in hers and she did not
withdraw it so soon. When she did there was a quick twinkle in her
eyes as she straightened the microphone and offered her hand to him
again.
"Jump!" he said, as if daring her.
A moment she paused. "I never could take a dare," she answered.
She leaped lightly to the floor. For just a moment she seemed about
to lose her balance. Then she felt an arm steadying her. He had
caught her and for an instant their eyes met.
"Well, Rodman--I scarcely thought it was as brazen as this!"
They turned in surprise.
Mrs. Brainard was standing in the doorway.
She was a petite blonde little woman of the deceptive age which the
beauty parlors convey to thousands of their assiduous patrons.
For a moment she looked coldly from one to the other.
"To what am I indebted for the pleasure of this unexpected visit,
Sybil?" asked Brainard with sarcastic emphasis. "I shall finish
those letters to-morrow, Miss Dunlap. You need not wait for them."
He held the door to his own office open for Mrs. Brainard.
Sybil Brainard shot a quick glance at Constance. "Well, young lady,"
she said haughtily, "do you realize what you are doing and with whom
you are?"
"It isn't necessary, Sybil, to bother about Miss Dunlap. The lights
were out of order and I found Miss Dunlap standing on the table
trying to fix them. You came just in time to see her jump down. By
the way, Worthington seems to be another who works late. He left
only a few minutes ago."
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