“Hello, my young radio friend,” he called out, sitting up straight as he caught sight of the boy. “When are you coming in to have a look at my wireless?”
“Any time you say,” answered Guy.
“Come on now.”
“All right.”
They went to Gunseyt’s stateroom, and there Guy found the man’s receiving set apparently all that it was represented to be. The cabineted outfit was mounted on a table, near which was a collapsible frame standard supporting a rather elaborate loop antenna. The owner of this outfit gave his guest a more or less learned lecture on its strong points of usefulness, and invited the boy to “listen in” a few minutes. Then they returned to the sheltered corner where Guy had found Gunseyt in a mood of mid-day drowsiness.
There they sat down and engaged in a rambling conversation on subjects incident to a trans-oceanic trip. Guy was enthusiastic over the accommodations on board the Herculanea and spoke warmly of the athletic refreshment he and Watson had enjoyed in the gymnasium.
“Who’s Watson?” asked Gunseyt.
“He’s a tall, big-boned man who sat near you and me when you first told me about your radio set,” Guy replied.
“That fellow? His name isn’t Watson. It’s Lantry, and he’s a crook, or I’m badly mistaken. I suspect he’s one of those card sharks that live on the ocean and bleed the rich, sporty passengers. If he isn’t that, he’s something else not classed with good citizenship.”
“What makes you think that?” asked the astonished Guy. “He seems to be a very fine man.”