“We’ve been away from our room a long time,” he interjected, as though remembering what we had originally started to do. “Something must have happened by this time or we’ll never get anything. Let’s go up there and see whether our wireless wiretapper has caught anything yet.”
Scarcely past the door Kennedy nudged me, a signal to be on guard. I looked cautiously about. Sitting in the lobby where she could see everybody who came and went was Paquita. She saw us approaching, but made no effort to avoid us. In fact, I felt sure that it was we for whom she was looking. If it was, Kennedy did not give her any satisfaction by letting her know that we even noticed it. We passed by, still chatting, though careful to say nothing that could not safely be overheard, and entered the elevator. As the door clanged shut Paquita flashed a chagrined glance at us. It said as plainly as words that she wanted to focus our attention on herself instead of something else.
Up in the room Kennedy fairly ripped the wax cylinder from his wireless machine and jammed it into what looked like a miniature phonograph.
“A recording device invented by Marconi,” he explained, as a succession of strange sounds issued from the reproducer.
I could make nothing out of it, but Kennedy seemed quite excited and elated.
“It’s not a wireless message at all,” he exclaimed.
“Then what is it?” I inquired.
He listened a moment more, then burst out, “No, not a message. That’s just wireless power itself. And it seems to come from the water side, too.”
He relapsed into silence, leaving us only to speculate.
What possible object could there be in the use of wireless power solely? Why did it come from the water? Was there a boat hanging about, perhaps flying the burgee of some well-known club, yet in reality to be used for some criminal purpose?