“You might make charges. But who would believe you if you—a fisherman—declared that Lewin Rodwell was a spy—eh? Try the game if you like—and see!”
For a few moments silence fell.
“Well, sir,” exclaimed Ted’s father. “Why not call up again? Perhaps Mr Stendel may be there now.”
Again Rodwell placed his expert hand upon the tapping-key, and once more tapped out the call in the dot-and-dash of the Morse Code.
For a full minute all three men waited, holding their breath and watching the receiver.
Suddenly there was a sharp click on the recorder. “Click—click, click, click!”
The answering signals were coming up from beneath the sea.
“B.S.Q.” was heard on the “sounder,” while the pale green tape slowly unwound, recording the acknowledgment.
Stendel was there, in the cable-station far away on the long, low-lying island of Wangeroog—alert at last, and ready to receive any message from the secret agents of the All Highest of Germany.
“B.S.Q.—B.S.Q.”—came up rapidly from beneath the sea. “I am here. Who are you?” answered the wire rapidly, in German.