She chuckled. She had heard the way Jenks had "sounded" her father out.
Jenks was speechless. The girl continued:
"I don't know whether to like you or to hate you. My father is an old dear. You were cruel to him."
Jenks was abject. "I did not mean to be," he said. "He rather belittled me without realizing it. I had to make my stand. The difference in our years made him take me rather too lightly. I had to compel his notice, if I was to advance."
"Oh!" said the girl.
"I am sorry—so sorry."
"You might not have been altogether at fault," said the girl. "Father forgets it times that I have grown up. I resent being treated like a child, but he is the soul of goodness and fatherly care."
"I know that,", said Jenks.
EVERY engineer knows his mathematics. It was this fact, coupled with what the world calls a "lucky break," that solved the Colossus mystery. Nobody can get around the fact that two and two make four.
Jenks had happened on accomplishment to advance in the engineering profession, and it was well for him that he had reached a crisis. He had never believed in luck or in hunches, so it was good for him to be brought face to face with the fact that sometimes the footsteps of man are guided. It made him begin to look into the engineering of the universe, to think more deeply, and to acknowledge a Higher Power.
With Linane he had butted into a stone wall. They were coming to know what real trouble meant. The fact that they were innocent did not make the steel bars of a cage any more attractive. Their troubles began to wrap about them with the clammy intimacy of a shroud. Then came the lucky break.
Next to his troubles, Jenks' favorite topic was the Mad Musician. He tried to learn all he could about this uncanny character at whose concert he had met the girl of his life. He learned two facts that made him perk up and think.
One was that the Mad Musican had had offices and a studio in the Colossus and was one of the first to move in. The other was that the Mad Musician took great delight in shattering glassware with notes of or vibrations from a violin. Nearly everyone knows that a glass tumbler can be shattered by the proper note sounded on a violin. The Mad Musician took delight in this trick. Jenks courted his acquaintance, and saw him shatter a row of glasses of different sizes by sounding different notes on his fiddle. The glasses crashed one after another like gelatine balls hit by the bullets of an expert rifleman.
Then Jenks, the engineer who knew his mathematics, put two and two together. It made four, of course.
"Listen, Linane," he said to his co-worker: "this fiddler is crazier than a flock of cuckoos. If he can crack crockery with violin sound vibrations, is it not possible, by carrying the vibrations to a much higher power, that he could crack a pile of stone, steel, brick and cement, like the Colossus?"
"Possible, but hardly probable. Still," Linane mused, "when you think about it, and put two and two together. . . . Let's go after him and see what he is doing now."
Both jumped for their coats and hats. As they fared forth, Jenks cinched his argument:
"If a madman takes delight in breaking glassware with a vibratory wave or vibration, how much more of a thrill would he get by crashing a mountain?"
"Wild, but unanswerable," said Linane.
JENKS had been calling on the Mad Musican at his country place. "He had a studio in the Colossus," he reminded Linane. "He must have reopened somewhere else in town. I wonder where."
