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He pushed his way through until he could reach the confectionery and news-stand in the main hallway. Here he climbed up on the counter and shouted:

“People, listen to me! I’m going to tell you what’s happened!”

In an instant there was dead silence. He found himself the center of a sea of white faces, every one contorted with fear and anxiety.

“To begin with,” he said confidently, “there’s nothing to be afraid of. We’re going to get back to where we started from! I don’t know how, yet, but we’ll do it. Don’t get frightened. Now I’ll tell you what’s happened.”

He rapidly sketched out for them, in words as simple as he could make them, his theory that a flaw in the rock on which the foundations rested had developed and let the skyscraper sink, not downward, but into the Fourth Dimension.

“I’m an engineer,” he finished. “What nature can do, we can imitate. Nature let us into this hole. We’ll climb out. In the mean time, matters are serious. We needn’t be afraid of not getting back. We’ll do that. What we’ve got to fight is–starvation!”

V.

“We’ve got to fight starvation, and we’ve got to beat it,” Arthur continued doggedly. “I’m telling you this right at the outset, because I want you to begin right at the beginning and pitch in to help. We have very little food and a lot of us to eat it. First, I want some volunteers to help with rationing. Next, I want every ounce of food, in this place put under guard where it can be served to those who need it most. Who will help out with this?”

The swift succession of shocks had paralyzed the faculties of most of the people there, but half a dozen moved forward. Among them was a single gray-haired man with an air of accustomed authority. Arthur recognized him as the president of the bank on the ground floor.

“I don’t know who you are or if you’re right in saying what has happened,” said the gray-haired man. “But I see something’s got to be done, and–well, for the time being I’ll take your word for what that is. Later on we’ll thrash this matter out.”

Arthur nodded. He bent over and spoke in a low voice to the gray-haired man, who moved away.

“Grayson, Walters, Terhune, Simpson, and Forsythe come here,” the gray-haired man called at a doorway.

A number of men began to press dazedly toward him. Arthur resumed his harangue.

“You people–those of you who aren’t too dazed to think–are remembering there’s a restaurant in the building and no need to starve. You’re wrong. There are nearly two thousand of us here. That means six thousand meals a day. We’ve got to have nearly ten tons of food a day, and we’ve got to have it at once.”

“Hunt?” some one suggested.

“I saw Indians,” some one else shouted. “Can we trade with them?”

“We can hunt and we can trade with the Indians,” Arthur admitted, “but we need food by the ton–by the ton, people! The Indians don’t store up supplies, and, besides, they’re much too scattered to have a surplus for us. But we’ve got to have food. Now, how many of you know anything about hunting, fishing, trapping, or any possible way of getting food?”

There were a few hands raised–pitifully few. Arthur saw Estelle’s hand up.

“Very well,” he said. “Those of you who raised your hands then come with me up on the second floor and we’ll talk it over. The rest of you try to conquer your fright, and don’t go outside for a while. We’ve got some things to attend to before it will be quite safe for you to venture out. And keep away from the restaurant. There are armed guards over that food. Before we pass it out indiscriminately, we’ll see to it there’s more for to-morrow and the next day.”

He stepped down from the counter and moved toward the stairway. It was not worth while to use the elevator for the ride of only one floor. Estelle managed to join him, and they mounted the steps together.