“They are signals from nowhere, yet always the same, and at exactly the same time. G.M.T. never alters—neither does the signal,” Falconer said.
So the pair agreed to listen still further, and to make investigation regarding the wealthy man from America, who had so suddenly arisen in the social firmament of post-war London.
Geoffrey had some few days’ leave due to him, so he took it, and, unknown to Mrs. Beverley and her daughter, watched the gay house-party assemble at Nassington Hall, the seat of the Earl of Nassington, not far from Crowborough, in Sussex.
Now, near Crowborough there was a wireless station, and on the night of Geoffrey’s arrival at the Beacon Hotel, he called upon the non-commissioned officer in charge, introduced himself, and was afforded an opportunity of looking over the apparatus. Naturally the man in charge was gratified that such an expert as Geoffrey Falconer should examine their set, and pronounce both transmission and reception unusually good. Then, soon after ten o’clock, Geoffrey returned to the Beacon.
That night he sent a note in secret to Sylvia, and in the autumn afternoon next day they met at the junction of the two roads at Marden’s Hill.
“I’m down here to have a look at a wireless set close by,” he explained. “Isn’t it fortunate? I’ll be here for a couple of days, I expect.”
“You gave me a real surprise,” the girl said. “When Thring brought me your note with my morning tea I could hardly believe that you were so close at hand. Why not come in to tea? Mother will introduce you to Lady Nassington.”
“No,” he replied. “I have, unfortunately, a lot of work to do at the wireless station. Please excuse me.”
“Ah! I know. You don’t want to meet Mr. Glover,” laughed the girl. “Now confess it!”
“It isn’t that, I assure you, Sylvia. But I would rather have a walk and a chat with you than gossip with all those people with whom I have so very little in common.”