The Radio Detectives Part 3

Gave them the ha, ha! Azalia. Can't get anything on her. How about Colon? French Islands? Sure, they're just about crazy. No, no fear of that. Good stuff. No, no rough stuff. Expect her at same place about the tenth. No, don't hang around. Cleared the third. Fifteen seconds west.

I'll tell him. Good bottom. Good luck! Don't worry, we'll see to that.

No risk. So long!"

As the conversation ceased Tom jumped up. "Gee!" he exclaimed. "That's the most we've heard yet. I wonder if Henry got it."

Hurrying to the telephone, he was about to call Henry when the bell tinkled. "h.e.l.lo!"-came the greeting in Henry's voice as Tom took down the receiver. "This is Henry. Say, did you get it?"

"You bet we did!" Tom a.s.sured him gleefully. "What did you make out? No, guess you'd better not tell over the phone. We'll be down there right away."

"He's east of here," declared Henry, when Tom and Frank reached his home.

"Golly, he must be in Brooklyn or out on the river!" exclaimed Tom.

"What did you make out that he said?"

Henry showed them the message as he had jotted it down and which, with the exception of one or two words, was identical with what they had heard.

"I couldn't catch some of the words," explained Henry. "There was a funny sort of noise-like some one talking through a comb with paper on it,-the way we used to do when we were little kids-say, what's it all about anyway?"

"We don't know," replied Frank. "Did you hear any one else talking or anything?"

"And, Henry, were the sounds weak or faint to you?" put in Tom.

"Only that queer sound I told you about. The words were fine and strong here."

"Then he's nearer here than he is to us," announced Tom. "But I would like to know who the other fellow was and what he said and why the d.i.c.kens we can't hear him when we hear this chap. Couldn't you make out any of the words that the fellow said-those that sounded like talking through a comb, I mean?"

"No, they were just a sort of buzzy mumble," replied Henry.

"Well if he's east of here it ought to be easy to locate him," remarked Frank. "Do you know any fellows around here who have sets, Henry?"

"Sure there are lots of 'em," Henry a.s.sured him. "Tom Fleming over at Bellevue has a dandy set and there's 'Pink' Bradley down on 19th St., and Billy Fletcher up on Lexington Ave., and a whole crowd I don't know."

"Well, let's try it out at Fleming's place next, then," cried Frank. "Do you s'pose you can see him to-morrow and tell him the scheme? And say, ask him if he's heard the same talk."

"I can phone over to him now-I guess he's home," said Henry, "but what's back of all this? You fellows aren't so keen just because you want to locate this fellow that's been talking, I'll bet."

Tom hesitated, but in a moment his mind was made up.

"I suppose we might just as well tell you," he said at last. "But it's a secret and you'll have to promise not to tell any one else."

Henry readily agreed and Tom and Frank told him all they knew and what they suspected.

"Whew!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Henry. "I shouldn't be surprised if you're right. I couldn't see any sense to all that talk about boats and the West Indies and numbers, but I can now. I'll bet those numbers were places out at sea-fifteen seconds west-and 'Azalia' may be the name of the s.h.i.+p. Say, won't it be bully if we can find out something-radio detectives-Gee, that's great!"

"Well, go on and call up Fleming," said Frank. "Tell him to come over here."

"He's on the way now," Henry announced when he returned to the room.

"Are you fellows going to let him in on the bootlegger stuff?"

"Better not," advised Tom. "If he's heard the fellow talking we can tell him we're just anxious to locate him. We can make a mystery out of not hearing the person that was talking back, you know."

"It's a mystery all right enough," put in Frank. "If that other chap can hear him, why can't we? There's something mighty queer about it."

"Search me," replied Tom laconically. "Maybe he talks on a different wave length."

"I never thought of that," admitted Frank. "Say, next time they're talking one of us will listen while the other tunes to try and pick up the other man."

"And perhaps he's in a different direction," suggested Henry. "If he is of course we wouldn't hear him with our loops pointed towards this fellow."

"Of course!" agreed Tom. "We _have_ been b.o.o.bs. Just as like as not the one we didn't hear is over to the west or the north and we were all listening to the southeast. Say, you've got sense, old man. Next time we hear this chap we'll nab the other one, I bet. h.e.l.lo! There's the bell."

Henry hurried from the room and returned presently, accompanied by another boy whom he introduced as Jim Fleming. Jim was undersized and round-shouldered with damp, reddish hair and big blue eyes behind horn-rimmed gla.s.ses. He had a most disconcerting manner of staring at one and constantly blinking and gulping-like a dying fish Frank declared later-and his hands and wrists seemed far too long for his sleeves. He was such a queer, gawky-looking chap that the boys could scarcely resist laughing, but before they had talked with him five minutes they had taken a great fancy to him and found he knew a lot about radio.

While the boys told him of their interest in the strange conversations, he stood listening, his long arms dangling at his sides, his big eyes blinking and his half-open mouth gulping spasmodically until Tom became absolutely fascinated watching him.

Mentally, Frank and Tom had dubbed him a "freak," a "simp," a "bookworm"

and half a dozen far from complimentary names and they had expected to hear him speak "like a professor," as Tom would have expressed it.

Instead he uttered a yell like a wild Indian, danced an impromptu jig and to the boys' amazement exclaimed:

"Hully Gee! So youse's onto that boid too! Say, fellers, isn't he the candy kid though? Spielin' on that flapper wave an' cannin' his gab if youse ask his call. Say, that boid oughter be up to the flooey ward-he's bughouse I'll say, with all his s.h.i.+p talk and numbers jazzed up an'

chinnin' to himself. Say, did youse ever hear a bloke talkin' to him?"

"No, we never did," replied Tom. "Did you?"

"Nix!" answered Jim. "That's why I say he's got rats in his garret-flooey I'll say-" Then, suddenly dropping his slangy East Side expressions, he continued: "Say, he's had me guessing, too. But I can tell you one thing. He's west of my place-I'm over at Bellevue, you know-Dad's stationed there-and that'll bring him somewhere between East 27th St. and Gramercy Square."

"But, how on earth do you know that?" queried Tom in surprise.

Jim grinned and blinked.

"Same way you found out he was east of here," he replied. "You needn't think you fellows have got any patent on a loop, I've been usin' one for six months. Ed-he's my brother-is 'Sparks' on a big liner and showed me about it. But honest, if that fellow isn't crazy an' talkin' to himself, why don't we get the other guy sometimes?"

"That's the mystery to us," said Frank. "We decided just before you came in that the other fellow must be sending on a different wave length or else was in some other direction. We were just planning to pick him up by one of us tuning and turning the loop while the others listened to this fellow, but if you hear this man west of your place that knocks one of our theories out. If the other chap was west you'd get him, too."

"Yep, and 'tisn't because he's on a different length," declared Jim.

"Hully Gee, I've tuned everywhere from 1500 meters down trying to get him, and nothin' doin'."

"Didn't you ever hear a funny sound like talking through a comb with paper on it?" asked Henry.

"Sure, sometimes I do," admitted Jim, "but you can't bring it in as chatter-I put it down to induction or somethin'-but Gee, come to think of it, it always does come in just right between this looney's sentences."

"I'll bet 'tis the other fellow," declared Henry. "Only if 'tis he's got an awful wheeze in his throat or his transmitter's cracked."

"Well, let's drop that and plan how we can locate this fellow we do hear," suggested Frank.

"Yes, now we know he's between your place and here we ought to find some place where we can set up a loop to the north and south," said Tom.

"Sure, we can fix that," declared Jim. "I've got a cousin that lives over on 23d St. and there's a good scout named Lathrop over on 26th. We can take sets to their places and put 'em up. They haven't anything but crystal sets, and most likely they'll know other guys and by trying out at different places we can spot his hangout all right. But say, what are you fellows so keen about findin' him for?"