Geoffrey sprang to his feet, for instantly he recognised in the stranger a Frenchman named Henri Amelot, a radio-engineer like himself, who was attached to the powerful wireless station at Croix d’Hins, near Bordeaux, which the Americans erected during the war for direct wireless communication between the American army and Washington, and which had now been taken over by the French Government.
He had met Amelot at Bordeaux about three months before, and he had been of considerable service to him, hence their meeting was a most cordial one, and they sat together for a long time, until darkness fell and the great arc lamps shone above them. And all the time the silent watcher sat idling over the Independance, but glancing at the pair furtively ever and anon.
Amelot told Geoffrey that he was in Brussels in connection with some newly-invented apparatus which they were about to test at Croix d’Hins, while the young Englishman explained the object of his visit to Belgium.
“Then your new Marconi set at Croydon gives wonderful results,” Amelot was saying. “Your Air Ministry ought to be greatly pleased with it. I was listening to it at Le Bourget the other day. Speech was marvellously clear.”
“Yes,” replied Geoffrey. “It is an exactly similar set that we are fitting at Bouvignes. My only regret is that Monsieur Marvaut, the Director of Civil Aviation, is absent from Brussels. He’s been away all the time I’ve been here, and there’s no sign of his returning yet—so his lady secretary, Mademoiselle Levie, tells me.”
“Marvaut was in Paris,” said the French radio-engineer. “I saw him about a month ago. He went afterwards to Marseilles. But you mentioned his lady secretary. I did not know he had one. His secretary, Charles Roosen, is with him.”
“But Mademoiselle Odille Levie called upon me on the first day of my arrival in Brussels, and conveyed Monsieur Marvaut’s regrets at his absence,” said Geoffrey.
“Ah!” remarked Amelot. “Then I suppose she is another secretary.” And the subject dropped. Later, Falconer walked with his friend to his hotel, the Palace, and then continued his way alone up the boulevard to the Avenue Lousie, being followed by the silent watcher who had sat so patiently in the café reading the Independance Belge.
Next morning at ten o’clock a waiter brought to Geoffrey the card of Mademoiselle Levie, and on entering the lounge a pretty, dark-haired, extremely chic young lady rose and greeted him merrily.
“I heard from Dinant that you were here, M’sieur Falconer,” the girl said. “Last night I had a message from Monsieur le Directeur to say that he is returning to his country château on Tuesday next, and asking whether you could make it convenient to visit him on that evening. He is rather unwell, it seems, and his doctor has forbidden him to come to the Ministry at present.”