"How interesting your work must be and just think how _perfectly_ lovely that I should be so fortunate as to make your acquaintance in this manner. Fancy, the great Ralph 124C 41+ who always denies himself to society." She hesitated, and then, impulsively, "I wonder if it would be too much to ask you for your autograph?" Much to his astonishment Ralph found himself pleased with the request. Autograph-hunting women he usually dismissed with a curt refusal. "Certainly," he answered, "but it seems only fair that I should know to whom I am giving it." "Oh," she said, blushing a little, and then, with dancing eyes, "Why?" "Because," replied Ralph with an audacity that surprised himself, "I don't want to be put to the necessity of calling up all Switzerland to find you again." "Well, if you put it that way," she said, the scarlet mounting in her cheeks, "I suppose I must. _I am Alice_ 212B 423, of Ventalp, Switzerland." Ralph then attached the Telautograph to his Telephot while the girl did the same. When both instruments were connected he signed his name and he saw his signature appear simultaneously on the machine in Switzerland. "Thank you so much!" she exclaimed, and added, "I am really proud to have your autograph. From what I have heard of you this is the first you have ever given to a lady. Am I right?" she asked. "You are perfectly correct, and what is more, it affords me a very great pleasure indeed to present it to you." "How lovely," she said as she held up the autograph, "I have never seen an original signature with the +, for there are only ten of you who have it on this planet, and now to actually _have_ one seems almost unbelievable." The awe and admiration in her dark eyes began to make him feel a little uncomfortable. She sensed this immediately and once more became apologetic. "I shouldn't take up your time in this manner," she went on, "but you see, I have not spoken to any living being for five days and I am just dying to talk." "Go right ahead, I am delighted to listen. What caused your isolation?" "Well, you see," she answered, "father and I live in our villa half way up Mount Rosa, and for the last five days such a terrible blizzard has been raging that the house is entirely snowed in. The storm was so terrific that no aeroflyer could come near the house; I have never seen such a thing. Five days ago my father and brother left for Paris, intending to return the same afternoon, but they had a bad accident in which my brother dislocated his knee-cap; both were, therefore, obliged to stay somewhere near Paris, where they landed, and in the meanwhile the blizzard set in. The Teleservice line became disconnected somewhere in the valley, and this is the first connection I have had for five days. How they came to connect me with New York, though, is a puzzle!" "Most extraordinary--but how about the Radio?"