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The Mystery of the Four Fingers by Fred M. (Frederick Merrick) White
page 39 of 278 (14%)

In the usual unconcerned manner of his class the boy touched an electric
button, and the lift slowly rose from the basement.

"Does this go right down to the cellars?" Gurdon asked.

"It can if it's wanted to," the boy replied. "Only it very seldom does.
You see, we only use this lift for our customers. It's fitted with what
they call a pneumatic cushion--I mean, if anything goes wrong, the lift
falls into a funnel shaped well, made of concrete, which forms a cushion
of air, and so breaks the fall. They say you could cut the rope and let
it down without so much as upsetting a glass of water. Not that I should
like to try it, sir, but there you are."

Gurdon entered the lift, where he pretended to be searching for something
for a moment or two. In reality, he was scraping up some of the yellow
sand which had fallen from the box to the floor of the lift, and this he
proceeded to place in a scrap of paper. Then he decided that it was
absolutely necessary to retire to bed, though he was still in full
possession of his waking faculties. As a matter of fact, he was asleep
almost as soon as his head touched the pillow. Nevertheless, he was up
early the following morning, and in Venner's bedroom long before
breakfast. He had an exciting story to tell, and he could not complain
that in Venner he had anything but an interested listener.

"We are getting on," the latter said grimly. "But before you say anything
more, I should like to have a look at that yellow sand you speak of.
Bring it over near the light."

Venner let the yellow stuff trickle through his hands; then he turned to
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