there. His feeling regarding the midget, after the events of the previous day, was not unmixed.

The things the men were doing interested him immensely. Two of them appeared to be putting little squares of paper through a wash, such as a photographer uses. A third was drying them before a motor-driven, superheated electric fan. The fourth was stamping them in a small press. Each time he stamped one, he appeared to change the type.

Presently, the two who were handling the baths appeared to come to the end of their tasks. Hardly had they spoken a word to their companions than each man stepped to a corner, and, turning his back from the center of the room, stood there motionless.

“Wha—” Johnny’s lips formed the word. There was not time to finish. The next instant he dropped limply back upon the platform, as if he had been shot.

“What is it, Johnny?” Pant whispered in alarm. Johnny’s hands covered his face.

“The flash! My eyes! They’re blind!”

Pant pushed him roughly to one side.

“Let’s see.”

Johnny slid back to the other car platform. Still dazed by the sudden flood of light that had struck his eye, but fast recovering, he watched Pant with interest, not unmingled with awe. By the sudden spurts of light that shot through the crack, he knew that the flashes were being continued, yet Pant did not remove his eye. He still crouched there before the crack. Gazing intently within, he uttered now and then a stifled “Ah!” and “Oh!” at the marvels which he was viewing.

Finally he dropped back to a seat beside Johnny.

“Eyes all right now?” he asked.

“Sure. What was it?” queried Johnny, forgetting his aching eyes.

“Color photography.”

“Color photography?”

“Sure. One of the great inventions of the age, and they are using it for making counterfeit bonds!”

 Prev. P 87/98 next