“I want some messages sent and taken,” he said, in his usual abrupt way, though there was none of the sharpness in his voice that had usually been in evidence when he spoke to them. “I wonder if you could do this for me,” and his eyes rested inquiringly upon Bob.
“I’ll do my best, Mr. Salper,” replied the latter, and the whole group went into the wireless room.
“I suppose you have permission to use this plant?” came from Joe.
“Oh, yes. If it hadn’t been for that I couldn’t have used it as I did those other times,” answered the broker.
Bob seated himself at the sending key and, following the financier’s directions, got in touch with the Wall Street house that had figured in the previous communications.
For an hour or more there was an interchange of messages that were mostly nonunderstandable to Bob and his friends who listened with the keenest interest. There was talk of stocks and bonds and of consolidations and controls and proxies and a host of other things that bore on financial deals.
At the beginning, Mr. Salper sat with furrowed brows and an air of intense concentration. But as the answers came in to his various inquiries, his brow gradually cleared and he relaxed somewhat in his chair.
Finally there came an answer that stirred him mightily. He jumped to his feet and slapped his thigh.
“I’ve got him!” he cried jubilantly. “By Jove, I’ve got him!”