In a window of the first floor there showed a light. Geoffrey, treading softly, entered the gate and silently crossed the rough grass towards the house. Scarcely had he reached the short flight of steps before the front door, being very cautious because a house dog might be about, when he heard a familiar click-click-clickety-click—the noise of a Morse “sounder.”
It was again the same sound he had heard in Hampstead. Why? Had they, he wondered, been testing some instruments there—instruments bought of the dealer in Chalk Farm Road?
In the darkness he strained his ears. What he read by those dots and dashes amazed him. He stood aghast for a few moments.
Then, having listened intently to make quite certain that his discovery was an absolute fact, he stole quietly away, and walking back through the village, re-entered the taxi and drove back over to Poldhu.
His suspicions had been confirmed! Though it was very late when he arrived, he found Hamilton in his pretty bungalow, and told him of his strange discovery.
“You’ll take every precaution in secret, won’t you?” urged Falconer. “Nobody must know of this.”
“Trust me,” replied the engineer-in-charge, at once eager and ready.
“We’ve only to wait and be very watchful. There’s some clever game afoot, without a doubt,” Falconer said, and presently he went along the path to the hotel, and to bed, while Hamilton, even at that late hour, crossed to the transmission room for a final look round before retiring.
Next day Geoffrey, who confided his suspicions to Sylvia, became very active. Several hours he spent in the transmission room, where Cator, with the “Brown receivers” over his head, was very busy transmitting and receiving acknowledgments. Falconer was watching every message, and also spent much of his time in the adjoining room, where the land-line from Marconi House was constantly working.
A dozen times that morning he was in close consultation with Hamilton. Then, at about five o’clock in the afternoon, both drove in Hamilton’s car into Truro.