"Surely not," drawled Darrow, stretching out his long legs. "But no man can tell whether or not he's game until he's tried out. That's no reflection on him, either. I remember once I went through seeing my best friend murdered; being shot at a dozen times myself as I climbed a cliff; seeing a pirate ship destroyed with all on board, apparently by the hand of Providence; escaping from a big volcanic bust-up into a cave, and having the cave entrance drop down shut behind me. I was as cool as a cucumber all through it. I remember congratulating myself that, anyhow, I was going to die game." "By Jove!" murmured Jack Warford, staring at him, fascinated. Evidently, the super-beautiful garment had been forgotten. "Then a war-ship's crew rescued me; and I broke down completely, and acted like a silly ass. I wasn't game at all; I'd just managed to postpone finding it out for a while." "It was just the reaction!" cried Jack. "Well, if that sort of reaction happens along before the trouble is all over, it looks uncommonly like loss of nerve," Percy Darrow pointed out. "No man knows whether or not he's game," he repeated. "However," he smiled whimsically, "I imagine you're likely to postpone your reactions as well as the next." "What's up? What do you want me to do?" "Stick by me; obey orders," said Darrow. "What's up?" "Did you notice anything in the papers this morning?" "They're full of this electrical failure last night. Haven't you seen them?" "Not yet. While I dress, tell me what they say." "The worst was in the tubes--" Warford began, but Darrow interrupted him. "I could tell you exactly what must have happened," said he, "if the failure was complete. Never mind that. Was the condition general, or only local? How far did it extend?" "It seemed to be confined to New York, and only about to Highbridge." "Long Island? Jersey?" "Yes; it hit them, too." "What are the theories?" "I couldn't see that they had any--that I could understand," said Jack. "There's some talk of the influence of a comet." "Rubbish! Who sprung that?" "Professor Aitken, I think." "He ought to know better. Any others?" "I couldn't understand them all. There was one of polarizing the island because of the steel structures; and the--" "No human agency?" "What?" "No man or men are suspected of bringing this about?" "Oh, no! You don't think--" "No, I don't think. I only imagine; and I haven't much basis for imagining. But if my imaginations come out right, we'll have plenty to do." "Where, now?" asked Jack, as the scientist finished dressing and reached for his hat. "Breakfast?" "No, I ate that before I dressed. We'll make a call on the Atlas Building." "All right," agreed Jack cheerfully. "What for?" "To ask McCarthy if he hasn't a job for you in construction." Jack came to a dead halt. "Say!" he cried. "Look here! You don't quite get the humor of that. Why, McCarthy loves the name of Warford about the way a yellow dog loves a tin can to his tail."