Station X
By G. McLeod Winsor
Lieut. Hughes glanced up from his book at the sound of rapid footsteps, and saw the hurrying figure enter the signal room, and cross toward the signaler’s chair. Macrae was removing the head-piece. As the professor paused, Macrae rose from his chair. “Come here,” he said, speaking in a ringing level tone of assured command. Macrae did not move. He looked up. Their eyes met.
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