His wireless installed and adjusted, Kennedy clapped the ear-pieces on and tuned it up. Not only he, but the wireless operator tried it, rapidly changing the wave-lengths, as the system admitted, in the hope of discovering something. Whatever it was that had caused the trouble at the Seaville Station, it was not working now. They seemed able to discover nothing.
This had been going on for some time when our telephone rang and Burke jumped to answer it.
“That’s one of my men,” he exclaimed with a gesture that indicated he had forgotten something. “I meant to tell you that they were holding a funeral service for Marshall Maddox, and this apparatus of yours clean knocked it out of my head. Hello!... Yes, I remember. Wait.” Burke put his hand over the transmitter and looked at us. “Do you want to go?” he asked.
“I think I would like to see them together again,” Craig replied, after a moment’s consideration.
“All right,” returned Burke, removing his hand. “We’ll be down in a minute.”
Kennedy took from another package what looked like an arrangement containing a phonograph cylinder, and attached it, through a proper contrivance, to his receiving apparatus.
“Now I think we can safely leave this thing,” bustled Kennedy, eager to get back in touch with things at Westport.
The wireless operator, Steel, glanced at his watch. “I’m due back at Seaville soon to do my trick. Is there anything else I can tell you or do for you?”
Kennedy thanked him. “Not just at the moment,” he returned. “We shall have to wait now until something happens. Perhaps you are right. I think the best thing you can do is to return to Seaville and keep your eyes and ears open. If there is anything at all that comes up that seems to lead to our wireless jammer, I wish you would let me know.”
Steel was only too glad to promise and, a moment later, left us to return to the wireless station.