"
The sound of the Interpreter's voice ceased. For a moment longer that
dead silence held--then as the full import of the old basket maker's
words went home to them, the crowd with a roar of fury turned toward
the spot where the agitator had stood when the arrival of the
Interpreter interrupted his address.
But Jake Vodell had disappeared.
CHAPTER XXIX
CONTRACTS
They had carried the Interpreter back to his wheel chair in the hut on
the cliff.
John, Peter Martin and the two young women were bidding the old basket
maker goodnight when suddenly they were silenced by the dull, heavy
sound of a distant explosion.
A moment they stood gazing at one another, then John voiced the
thoughts that had gripped the minds of every one in that little group:
"The Mill!"
Springing to the door that opened on to the balcony porch, John threw
it open and they went out, taking the Interpreter in his chair. In
breathless silence they strained their eyes toward the dark mass of the
Mill with its forest of stacks and its many lights.
"Everything seems to be all right there," murmured John.
But as the last word left his lips a chorus of exclamations came from
the others. Farther up the river a dull red glow flushed the sky.
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