"A what?" interrupted Sir John Smith.
"A nut," answered Hood. "A crank, so to speak."
"Ah, 'krank'!" nodded the German. "Exactly—a lunatic! That is precisely what I say!"
"But I don't think it's no nut now," countered Hood valiantly. "If he is a bug he's the biggest bug in all creation, that's all I can say. He's got the goods, that's what he's got. He'll do some damage before he gets through."
"Are these messages addressed to anybody in particular?" inquired Sir John, who was studying Hood intently.
"Well, they are and they ain't. Pax—that's what he calls himself—signals NAA, our number, you understand, and then says what he has to say to the whole world, care of the United States. The first message I thought was a joke and stuck it in a book I was reading, 'Silas Snooks'——"
"What?" ejaculated Von Koenitz impatiently.
"Snooks—man's name—feller in the book—nothing to do with this business," explained the operator. "I forgot all about it. But after the earthquake and all the rest of the fuss I dug it out and gave it to Mr. Thornton. Then on the 27th came the next one, saying that Pax was getting tired of waiting for us and was going to start something. That came at one o'clock in the afternoon, and the fun began at three sharp. The whole observatory went on the blink. Say, there ain't any doubt in your minds that it's him, is there?"
Von Koenitz looked cynically round the room.
"There is not!" exclaimed Rostoloff and Liban in the same breath.