“What does it all mean?” exclaimed Tom, finding his voice at last.
“What does what—” commenced Frank’s voice, only to be overwhelmed and drowned out by Rawlins’ louder words.
“Search me!” replied the latter. “Something rotten going on here. Don’t know what, but I intend to find out. Did you hear them talking?”
“Hear them?” replied Tom not understanding. “Of course not. But I heard that same chap you
heard the other day—talking Dutch or something.”
“That was them!” announced Rawlins decidedly. “Tom, they’ve got under-sea radio, too. It’s those chaps we’ve been hearing, I’m beginning to get it. That word Oleander. That’s a password—a countersign. Just as soon as they spoke it the door opened. There’s some deep mystery here. What the deuce that torpedolike affair was I don’t know. Perhaps they’re trying to blow up some building. This sewer is under a busy part of the city. Hear those trucks and surface cars overhead?”
Absolutely dumbfounded, heedless of Frank’s insistent but weak voice in his ears, striving to grasp all this astounding statement of Rawlins’, Tom stood speechless for a moment. And then an idea flashed through his mind.
“Gosh!” he exclaimed. “Say, Mr. Rawlins, they’ll find us. If they’ve got radio they can hear us too! Say, perhaps they’re listening to us now. Come on, let’s get out of here.”
Rawlins’ surprised whistle came shrilly to Tom’s ears.
“You’re right!” replied the diver. “We’re in