The voice at the other end of the line was harsh and guttural. The words were spoken in a truly menacing tone:
“You do not need to know who I am. It is sufficient that I warn you. We who are banded together in this country know this thing that you think of doing. We know that you intend a trip in your flying ship to the war zone. Take our advice and do not attempt it. You are being closely watched and we will not hold ourselves responsible for what may happen if you try to carry out your plan. You are young and life is dear to you. Beware!”
The telephone clicked abruptly at the other end of the line and the threatening voice was still. Ned sat as if petrified, his face a study of mingled amazement, indecision and indignation.
“What’s the matter, Ned? Who was it? Was it that same person who called up about the Flyer?” cried the others crowding around him.
“Yes,” replied Ned, “it was the same voice and I am sure that I have heard it before.”
Then he went on to tell them of the ominous threats of the mysterious stranger. A chorus of exclamations followed his recital.
“The blackguard!” ejaculated Major Honeywell. “We ought to set detectives on his trail.”
“Small chance of ever catching him that way with the meagre clues we have,” said reporter Buck. “Besides, we haven’t time to monkey with anything like that,—unless, of course, you boys decide that it is better not to risk the enmity of these unknowns. They evidently mean business.”
Ned’s lips had fixed themselves into a grim, straight line, and Alan’s frown was no less determined.
“All he hopes to do is to frighten us into selling the airship to him,” said Alan, “and I don’t believe that his big threats were anything but sheer bluff. Why, they wouldn’t dare attack us right here in the heart of civilized New York.”