The next day Jenks approached Linane in conference and said: "I've got a curious bet on, Mr. Linane. I am betting sound can travel a mile quicker than it travels a quarter of a mile." "What?" said Linane. "I'm betting fifty that sound can travel a mile quicker than it can travel a quarter of a mile." "Oh no--it can't," insisted Linane. "Oh yes--it can!" decided Jenks. "I'll take some of that fool money myself," said Linane. "How much?" asked Jenks. "As much as you want." "All right--five hundred dollars." "How you going to prove your contention?" "By stop watches, and your men can hold the watches. We'll bet that a pistol shot can be heard two miles away quicker than it can be heard a quarter of a mile away." "Sound travels about a fifth of a mile a second. The rate varies slightly according to temperature," explained Linane. "At the freezing point the rate is 1,090 feet per second and increases a little over one foot for every degree Fahrenheit." "Hot or cold," breezed Jenks, "I am betting you five hundred dollars that sound can travel two miles quicker than a quarter-mile." "You're on, you damned idiot!" shouted the completely exasperated Linane. * * * * * Jenks let Linane's friends hold the watches and his friend held the money. Jenks was to fire the shot. Jenks fired the shot in front of a microphone on a football field. One of Linane's friends picked the sound up instantaneously on a three-tube radio set two miles away. The other watch holder was standing in the open a quarter of a mile away and his watch showed a second and a fraction. All hands agreed that Jenks had won the bet fairly. Linane never exactly liked Jenks after that. Then Jenks rather aggravated matters by a habit. Whenever Linane would make a very positive statement Jenks would look owl-eyed and say: "Mr. Linane, I'll have to sound you out about that." The heavy accent on the word "sound" nettled Linane somewhat. Linane never completely forgave Jenks for putting over this "fast one." Socially they were always more or less at loggerheads, but neither let this feeling interfere with their work. They worked together faithfully enough and each recognized the ability of the other. And so it was that Linane and Jenks, their heads together, worked all night in an attempt to find some cause that would tie responsibility for the disaster on mother nature. They failed to find it and, sleepy-eyed, they were forced to admit failure, so far. The newspapers, to whom Muller had said that he would not shirk any responsibility, began a hue and cry for the arrest of all parties in any way concerned with the direction of the building of the Colossus. When the death list from the crash and subway wreck reached 97, the press waxed nasty and demanded the arrest of Muller, Linane and Jenks in no uncertain tones.