Walt turned the dial of an audio generator until the note was beating
at zero with the vibrating crystal. "What frequency does Arden's jello
work at?" he asked. "I've got about four-fifty per second."
"Arden's jello isn't quite that nervous," said Don, puzzling.
"Taking my name in vain?" asked a cool and cheerful contralto. Don
whirled and demanded, "How long have you been keyhole listening?"
Arden smiled. "When Walt Franks nearly runs me down without seeing
me--and in his great clutching hands is a portable phonograph but no
records--and in his eye there is that wild Tom Swift glint--I find
my curiosity aroused to the point of visible eruption. Interesting,
fellers?"
"Baffling," admitted Channing. "But what were you doing standing on
odd-corners waiting for Walt to run you down for?"
"My feminine intuition told me that eventually one of you would do
something that will wreck the station. When that happens, my sweet, I
want to be among the focus of trouble so that I can say I told you so."
Walt grunted. "Sort of a nice epitaph," he said. "We'll have them words
'I tole ya so' engraved on the largest fragment of Venus Equilateral
when we do."