If May Farncombe had a secret lover, what business was it of his? True, her undue knowledge of wireless inventions was somewhat strange, but what was most probable was that some friend of hers, perhaps the fair-haired man who had met her clandestinely, had given her just a little superficial knowledge—just as so many people possess.
Geoffrey bade farewell to his host and hostess three days later, and left for Warley, Mrs. Beverley and her daughter remaining for a few days longer. Sylvia had become very friendly with May, and Mrs. Beverley had asked her to stay with them for a fortnight or so in Upper Brook Street in about a month’s time.
Back at the Works at Chelmsford, Geoffrey continued his research work, assisting two well-known engineers in some highly interesting experiments. Privately he was experimenting with the amplification and magnification of wireless signals as applied to a new automatic call-device for use at sea. One had recently been perfected by young Falconer privately, but at present it was a secret, and not yet patented, for a slight point about it was not to his satisfaction.
Each night at his own private experimental laboratory at Warley he spent hours upon hours in trying to devise some means of removing the one slight defect of his new apparatus. Several automatic call-devices had been invented, and the Marconi one for use on ships had proved extremely satisfactory. Yet Falconer, true experimenter that he was, was never satisfied with results. He always endeavoured to make further improvements.
The calling-device, it may here be explained, is a piece of apparatus which will only ring an alarm bell when the call-signal of a ship—three or four letters of the alphabet—or the distress signal, “S.O.S.” is sent, and even then it is so arranged that the letters to which it is set to respond must be repeated before the alarm rings. The object of such a device is to enable small ships to work with one operator, who need not keep constant watch. As a rule passenger boats of any size carry three operators, who keep constant watch for calls day and night. But Geoffrey hoped that, by an improvement of the new device, a greater perfection still could be arrived at.
His hope, indeed, was to so devise a scheme that any message sent out to the call-signal to which it was set, would be printed in Morse automatically upon a tape instrument, so that even if the operator were not within call, the message would be recorded. Such achievement, however, was fraught with many technical difficulties of wave-length and other things, as all wireless men will quickly foresee. Still he worked hard and patiently each evening after his return from the Works.
Now and then he went to London and spent the evening in Upper Brook Street. Once or twice he dined out with Sylvia and her mother, and went to one or two dances in Mayfair, but the greater part of his spare time was occupied with his wireless calling-device. His superiors at Marconi House knew the trend of his experiments, and encouraged him, for Marconi apparatus is always being developed, improved, and again improved, until absolute perfection is at last arrived at. The calling-device in use was perfect, but if the incoming message could be recorded, then the improvement would be of immense benefit to both shipowners and shipmasters.
One day when he called at Mrs. Beverley’s, he found that May Farncombe had arrived upon her promised visit, and he sat in the drawing-room chatting for a long time with Sylvia and her friend.
“Geoffrey has actually torn himself away from his horrible old wireless,” Sylvia remarked. “For nearly a fortnight we’ve hardly seen him.”
“I’ve been awfully busy on a new gadget,” the young man replied with a laugh. Then, turning to May, he added: “Sylvia is always poking fun at me because I happen to be enthusiastic over my work.”