But Ding-dong was already at his instruments. He flashed on his sending current and presently the whine and crackle of the urgent message “To All Stations” was audible even in the living hut through the open door of the wireless shed.
CHAPTER VIII.
AN AERIAL APPEAL.
While Ding-dong was sending his wireless appeal flashing and crackling into the ether, Dr. Chalmers turned to Professor Jenkins again.
“You have not yet told us what connection this man Sartorius has with the case?” he hinted.
“Sartorius is no more his name than it is mine,” was the rejoinder. “His right name is Miles Minory, and he was dismissed from the University shortly before I left for being engaged in some shady financial transactions. He had worked as my assistant once, and in some way learned of my secret researches. Of a singularly acute mind, he perceived at once the financial possibilities of the device. After approaching some capitalists, he came to me with a proposition to sell out, he, of course, to get a large reward from the capitalists for persuading me to do so. I refused, and told him that I would market my wireless torpedo, when completed, in my own way. Not long after, my rooms were broken into in my absence and my papers tampered with; but, luckily, long before this I had removed the important ones to a place of safety, knowing Minory’s character and that he was likely to adopt crooked methods when others failed to gain his end.
“From time to time I became unpleasantly aware that I was being watched. The secret surveillance got on my nerves, but I persisted with my work until I perfected it. I carried out my last experiments in a remote coast town on the north shore of Long Island. One night I was attacked on my way from my experiment station to my home. Minory did not appear in this outrage, but I knew he instigated it. As in his other efforts to obtain my papers, he failed in this also.
“But it decided me that the vicinity of New York was too dangerous a place for me to carry on my work. I was not sure even that my life was safe if I persisted in holding out against the ring that wanted to seize my invention. In this dilemma I turned to a friend who owns a small ranch in Mexico, not far from Mazatlan. He offered me freely the use of this secluded spot for as long a time as I wished to use it, and I jumped at the offer. Without loss of time I booked passage for San Francisco through a third party, in order to throw my enemies off my trail. When I embarked on the Iroquois it was with a light heart, but, as I told you, I was not long left undisturbed in my fancied security. Although that beard Minory wears is as false as the name he traveled under, I knew him even in the disguise he had adopted. I was on guard, but—well, the rest you know.”
During the recital of this remarkable story they had listened without a word of interruption. Now, however, everyone had questions to ask, all of which Mr. Jenkins readily answered. We shall not detail the conversation here, as Professor Jenkins’ narrative as already set down appears fully to cover it. In the midst of the talk, and while Joe was fixing up the best breakfast he could on the hut stove, Ding-dong, his face red with excitement, came running in.
“I’ve sent out a full description of the m-m-man and the two b-b-boats to all coast stations within reach,” he exclaimed. “But tell me one thing, professor, could this Sus-ar-Sartorius run a mum-mum-motor boat?”