“I don’t,” growled Tom. “But I don’t believe he’s gone from Brest to Tokio in ten days, especially when he is to sink a German warship next.”
“But there may be a German warship there,” answered Dorothy.
“There isn’t a first-class German battleship in Asiatic waters to-day,” I broke in. “I’m following every one, and they’ve all been called in to home stations within a month, on some excuse of trial mobilization. They’ve all passed Suez.”
Tom gave a long whistle. “We set the machine for those terrific waves that ‘the man’ uses. Of course somebody in Tokio might have them, but it’s improbable. Let’s start her up again.”
Once more the lights were lowered, once more the belt resumed its revolution, as we watched. Scarcely a minute passed, and the machine stopped as before, with a click. The beam fluttered for a moment, and stopped apparently in the same place where it started.
“Well, I’ll be hanged!” said Tom, as he hurried over to examine it. “.0001,” he read off.
“Why, that’s not outside New York. Don’t figure it,” said Dorothy. “Reverse the beam.”
No sooner said than done, and a slit on the left sprang into light. Tom stood blankly, his hands deep in his pockets, as he gazed.
“Telephone Carrener in the Physical Laboratory up at U. C. N. Y.” said Dorothy excitedly. “Ask him what he’s doing now.”
Tom jumped for the telephone, and a rapid-fire volley of calls and questions followed. As he hung up the receiver, he turned to us despairingly. “It was Carrener. He’s just been making some radio-active experiments. The blamed machine registers every strong radio-active wave that’s sent out anywhere in the world.”