“Wireless?” asked Ned, turning to Alan in surprise.
“If we only had to deliver the matrices in the park,” went on Alan nodding his head, “we could do that with a slow down. Then we could be off and give the ‘bobbies’ the laugh.”
“But our passengers and the supplies?” urged Ned.
“We ain’t goin’ to get to London before half past one,” resumed Alan taking a position in front of Ned and laying a pocket map of London and its suburbs on the binnacle where the light fell on it. “Those picture makers will be through their work when the royal procession has reached Westminster and the exercises begin or as soon as they’ve had a few shots inside the building—if they expect to do that. Any way, they ought to be free before half past twelve if they cut out the return parade. Bob says the men doin’ the coronation can leave any time after they’ve had a look at the crowd. They know the program to the last word. And the supplies will be ready at any time.”
“Well,” commented Ned. “I think I get you. But, go on!”
“These men and our supplies ought to be out in the western suburbs of London—far out. Then we’d throw out the matrices, get away before any one could stop us and make a landing where our passengers are waiting for us. They ought to be able to sneak out twenty or twenty-five miles in a good motor and the supplies could be sent early in the day.”
“Then we could stop in peace and safety,” broke in Ned enthusiastically, “long enough to overhaul everything and start again in good shape. Were you figurin’ on the wireless?”
“Yes,” answered Alan. “If we could pick up a liner either on this side or close in on the other it could forward the message. I don’t think our outfit is strong enough to do much more—”
“Why not try a Labrador station?” interrupted Ned with enthusiasm. “We can’t be more than three hundred miles from a Marconi office there. I know there’s a telegraph line to Chateau Bay. Surely there’s a station just behind us at Heart’s Content where the cables end in Trinity Bay, Newfoundland. And that’s not over three hundred miles either.”
“Bob ought to be good for three or four hundred miles,” suggested Alan, his eyes sparkling. “Shall we?”