“Very simply matter,” answered the “radio man,” “we have a secret ally who is an operator for a certain mercantile station. He sends the messages to me in secret code. I always know his wave length and never miss.”
“That’s interesting,” Guy remarked at the close of this explanation, but the tone of his voice did not indicate much enthusiasm. He felt considerable doubt as to the propriety of the method employed by Gunseyt and his partner in getting free trans-Atlantic wireless service.
“Come in and look my set over any time,” said the radio trickster. “Here’s my card. May I have the pleasure of knowing your name?”
“Guy Burton,” answered the boy, glancing at the card on which was printed the name Christopher Gunseyt and the address London. “This is my mother, Mr. Gunseyt,” he added; for Mrs. Burton had been an attentive listener to the conversation.
CHAPTER VIII
A Suspicious Intruder
Guy made mental note of one peculiarity in Mr. Gunseyt; the tone of his voice was slightly strained, and the fluency of his speech seemed to have been accomplished after long practiced effort to overcome a difficulty of some kind. The boy was unable to explain this to his own satisfaction. He could not convince himself that it was due entirely to a natural impediment or physical defect.
In the afternoon Guy made the acquaintance of an interesting, tall, square-built, large-featured man in the gymnasium. The latter introduced himself as Henry Watson of Cincinnati. They played handball together for more than an hour.
“I was sitting a few feet away from you and that fellow Gunseyt while you were talking wireless with him,” Watson remarked during one of their resting periods. “He had quite a stunning story to tell, didn’t he?”
“Yes, he had,” Guy agreed. “I’m going in and have a look at his outfit the first opportunity.”
“Did he tell you what business he’s in?” asked Watson.