On Sylvia’s part she was still writing to the Ritz, at Budapest, whence she had had a letter from her lover, and they were retaining the letters expecting the young English engineer to return, as the Baron, unknown to Geoffrey, had promised.
Next morning broke chill and misty over the Carpathians, and at half-past eleven the Baron, accompanied by Falconer, Françoise, and Koblitz, drove to the newly completed wireless station.
Inside the transmission hut as they stood together, the Baron took out a slip of thin paper which he carefully unfolded and handed to his companion, saying:
“The call-signal will not be found in the official book.” Then added: “As you see, the message is seven-figure code.”
Geoffrey looked and saw that the call-letters written upon the slip of paper were C.H.X.R., followed by a jumble of figures interspersed with letters of the alphabet.
The initial letter of the call showed that the station wanted was either in Spain, Portugal, Morocco, or Roumania. No doubt it was in the latter country.
“The call-signal allotted to this station is the letters O.S.R.U.,” the Baron said, after referring to his pocket-book.
So the young radio-engineer at once sat down to the key and tapped out the usual preliminary call, followed by his own call and the call of the unknown station he wanted.
“Get them first by telegraphy, and then I will telephone to them,” urged the Baron excitedly.
Within ten minutes Geoffrey obtained a response, and after sending the code message by telegraph, he switched on the telephone transmitter, and handed the microphone to the Baron.