"Craig," I cried, "this is devilish!"
I thought I saw it all now. In the cases of goods on the Furious were some terrible infernal machines which had been hidden, to be detonated by these deadly rays of wireless.
Kennedy was busy, working quickly putting together the parts he had taken from the two packages we had carried.
As I watched him, I realized that the burning of the Rovigno house was not the action of an incendiary, after all. It had been done by these deadly rays, probably by mere accident.
As nearly as I could make it out, there was a counterplot against the Furious. Somewhere was an infernal workshop, possibly hedged about by doors of steel which ordinary force would find hard to penetrate, but from which, any moment, this super-criminal might send out his deadly power.
The more I considered it, while Kennedy worked, the more uncanny it seemed. This man had rendered the mere possession of explosives more dangerous to the possessor than to the enemy.
Archimedes had been outdone!
The problem before us now was not only the preservation of American neutrality, but the actual safety of life.
Through the open hatch I could now hear voices on the deck. One was that of a woman, which I recognized quickly. It was Julia Rovigno.
"I'll be just as quiet as a mouse," she was saying. "I'll stay in the cabin—I won't be in the way."