"All well below," he said.
Von Boehlen and the operator, the big man and the little man, were lying side by side. Von Boehlen's face was very pale, but his chest was beginning to rise and fall with some regularity. He would become conscious in three or four minutes. The operator was conscious already and he was staring at the three apparitions.
But Wharton was paying no attention to the captives. His soul fairly leaped within him as he took his seat at the instrument which was sputtering and flashing with unanswered questions.
"Is that the Château de Friant?" came the words flashing through the air.
"Yes this is the Château de Friant," replied Wharton, learning for the first time the name of the house, in which they had made themselves at home.
"Then why don't you answer? You broke off suddenly five minutes ago and we couldn't get another word from you."
"Something went wrong with the instrument, but it's all right now. Go ahead."
"Is Captain von Boehlen still there?"
"At my elbow."
"Take from his dictation the answers to the questions I ask you."