Indeed, Falconer examined the register of visitors himself, but found no entry of the name of Rossi, either in the account-books of the hotel or the register which all visitors signed when engaging rooms.
The mystery of Enrico’s disappearance was, in view of that remarkable wireless message, most curious. Why had the Italian used a false call-signal? Again, from what station had he transmitted that message of farewell?
Having obtained permission, Falconer’s next action was to ask Coltano whether they had received the telephonic message from their engineer on the night in question. The message was sent from Poldhu, while Geoffrey himself, seated at Chelmsford, listened on the big aerial to its dispatch, and then, a quarter of an hour later, heard the reply, which read as follows:
“Poldhu from Coltano. Understood your query. We have heard no telephony and received no message whatever from Enrico Rossi. Why do you ask? Kindly reply.—Director Coltano Radio.”
From that it was instantly plain that the message purporting to be sent to Coltano was upon a low-power set somewhere in the vicinity of London, and not, as Geoffrey had believed, upon apparatus which would transmit two thousand or more miles. The Admiralty wireless station at Cleethorpes heard it, and so had Aberdeen, but there was no proof that it had been heard outside Britain.
The mystery increased hourly. The London police were informed, and inquiries were made concerning the missing Italian.
To Sylvia, Geoffrey had told the whole story, and the girl had become keenly excited concerning the disappearance of the good-mannered young man, who was her lover’s friend.
“If I can help you, Geoffrey, I do hope you will allow me,” she urged. “I believe the poor fellow has met with foul play, and if so, we ought to discover the culprits.”
“That, I regret to say, is my suspicion,” was Falconer’s reply. “I have a keen intuition that there is something very radically wrong somewhere. Why should he announce his departure for America?”
“But he has not sailed, I suppose?”