Malachi McCarthy, having caught a ride on a friendly dray, arrived home. At eight ten his telephone bell for the first time jangled its summons. McCarthy answered it. "I'm Simmons, the wireless operator," the small voice told him. "Say! There's a lot of these fool messages in the air again. You know what they said last night about six o'clock, and what happened." "Let's have 'em," growled McCarthy. "Here she is: 'McCarthy, will you do as I tell you? Answer. Remember the sign at six o'clock.' It's signed 'M.'" "Where did that come from?" asked the boss. "Can't tell, but somewheres a long ways off." "How do you know that?" "By the sound." "How far--about?" "Might be anywhere." "Can you get an answer back?" "I think so. Can't tell whether my spark will reach that far. I can send out a call for 'M.'" "Well, send this," said McCarthy. "'Go to hell.'" On the evening of the phenomena afore mentioned, Percy Darrow had returned to his apartments, where he had dressed unusually early, and by daylight. This was because he had a dinner engagement up-town. It was an informal engagement for a family dinner at seven o'clock; but Percy had been requested by one of the members to come at about six. This was because the other members would presumably be dressing between six and seven. The young man found a fire blazing on the hearth, although the evening was warm. A graceful girl sat looking into the flames. She did not rise as the scientist entered, but held out her hand with an air of engaging frankness. "Sit down," she invited the guest. "This is a fearful and wonderful time to ask you to venture abroad in your dress clothes, but I wanted to see you most particularly before the rest of the family comes down." "You are a singularly beautiful woman," observed Darrow in a detached manner, as he disposed his long form gracefully in the opposite armchair. The girl looked at him sharply. "That is intended as an excuse or explanation--not in the least as a compliment," Darrow went on. "You would not be so obliging, if I were not--beautiful?" shot back the girl. "That is indeed not complimentary!" "I should be exactly as obliging," amended Darrow lazily, "but I should not feel so generally satisfied and pleased and rewarded in advance. I should have more of a feeling of virtue, and less of one of pleasure." "I see," said the girl, her brows still level. "Then I suppose you are not interested in what I might ask you as one human being to another!" "Pardon me, Helen," interrupted Darrow, with unusual decision. "That is just what I am interested in--you as a human being, a delicious, beautiful, feminine, human being who could mean half the created universe to a lucky man." "But not the whole--" "No, not the whole," mused Darrow, relaxing to his old indolent attitude. "You see," he roused himself to explain, "I am a scientist, for instance. You could not be a scientist; you have not the training."