With another cocky grin, the little man reached down into Mr. Briggs’s side pocket and pulled out his set of keys. He found the one he wanted, separated it from the rest, removed it—and then stuck the others back where they had come from.
“Let’s go,” he said to Sandy.
“Sure you have the right key, Cookie?” Sandy asked.
“Sure. I’d know it anywhere. Come on, follow me.”
As they went out, Cookie removed the key that the mate had left in the lock when he opened the door to admit him. When they had stepped out into the corridor, he closed the door softly behind him and locked it.
“Just in case,” he chirped, putting the key in his pocket.
Then the two made their way to the radio shack.
“Shhh!” Cookie said, as he quietly unlocked the door to the radio shack. “Don’t show a light either.” He glanced rapidly around him. “There,” he said, pointing to an object standing alongside a radio transmitter. “That’s it.”
A tingling thrill shot through Sandy Steele’s body as his eyes pierced the dim light that filtered through a porthole and fell on the ship-to-shore telephone.
“You use it just like any other telephone,” Cookie whispered, as he bent to lock the door. “Just give the operator the letters there at the bottom, and then give her the number you want.”