“Eh, what’s that now?” Gem Renaud waved his cane at a queer-looking metal tube Lee was bringing in from his workshop. This was a brass cylinder some ten inches long by two inches thick. Caps of a silvery metal closed the ends, and a roll of fine wire was attached to each cap. In his other hand, Lee carried a compact wooden case.
“Just a new type storage cell and some selenium plates for aerial wave catchers that I want to try out on your radio.”
Lee dropped down beside the mechanism and set to work. For an hour and more, he tapped and screwed and soldered.
“There, that’s sort of like it!” He cut on the switch and leaned forward, tense, listening.
Clear as a bell, purer and with less static interference than ever before, music from a distant station rolled through the room.
“It’s those selenium plates,” jubilated young Renaud. “They catch the waves better than any other aerial going!”
Far into the night, he and old Gem sat tinkering, trying this station and that, enjoying themselves hugely. It was along toward midnight that they picked up a strange message out of the air.
“Renaud of the Radio, do you want to go to the Arctic?”
Just that; nothing more.