The Boys of the Wireless Part 20

Grace Morgan's eyes flashed. A flush of real anger came into her cheeks.

"Mart and Mr. Aldrich did that?" she cried. "Oh, they shall never come into this house again." And on hearing this Tom Barnes felt rewarded for all the tribulation he had gone through that night.

CHAPTER XV-AN UNEXPECTED RESCUER

"Have you spoken to Harry yet, Tom?" inquired Ben, two days after the overturning of the plots of Mart Walters and his city friend, Bert Aldrich.

It was the middle of the afternoon, and things wireless had been slack at Station Z ever since morning. Tom turned from his chair at the window where he had been dreamily surveying the open sea.

"No, Ben," he replied a little gravely. "I came near doing it last night, but I didn't know but it might worry him, or make him think I was trying to pry into his personal business."

"I tell you, Tom, I think Harry ought to be told about the mysterious 'Donner' messages, and asked to explain about the tattooed sun, moon and stars on his left shoulder."

"I fancy he's about through with his task in the pasture by now," said Tom. "Supposing you go up to the house, get him down here, and we'll try to introduce the subject so it won't frighten or bother him."

"All right," a.s.sented Ben with alacrity, and was forthwith on his way.

Tom resumed his place at the window. His back was to the road running up from the beach to the village, and he was not aware of an unexpected arrival from that direction until a man's voice sounding within the room hailed him.

"Hey, boy, who's in charge here?"

"I am," answered Tom, turning to confront two men who in turn entered the tower by way of the trap door. They were strangers in Rockley Cove, and Tom did not at all like their looks. The man who had accosted him had a sharp, hard eye. His companion was furtive-faced, and suggested a person constantly on the watch.

"We want to send a message," the former proceeded. "In cypher."

"Where to?" inquired Tom.

"The man pointed seawards."

"To a s.h.i.+p?"

"Yes, to the _Councillor_, bound for Canada."

Tom shook his head discouragingly.

"You will have to go to Station O at Deepdale. This is only a demonstration plant, and I have no orders to take commercial business,"

explained Tom.

The man drew out a pocketbook.

"See here," he said, "I'll give you ten dollars to send the message."

"I'm sorry, but it's against the rules."

"Jackson, do it yourself," spoke the other man quickly, pressing close to his companion's side.

"I'm out of practice."

"Oh, you can manage it."

"Hold on, there. I can't allow any interference with the apparatus here," said Tom, stepping in front of the first man as he started over towards the operating table.

"Can't, eh?" sneered the man. "Well, you'll have to. Keep him quiet, Griffin."

"I've got him," announced the man addressed.

He had caught Tom by the wrist. As the latter struggled to free himself, his captor dragged him toward a closet in one corner of the room.

Its door stood open. The closet was oak framed, built into the wall of the room, and had a stout door with a small circular slit in it. Mr.

Edson had utilized it to lock up things he did not wish to leave lying around loose, when he left the tower at night. Tom had used it as a storeroom for surplus parts of the wireless outfit.

It had a strong padlock. The man threw Tom in roughly, secured the padlock, and then went up to the table. His companion was closely inspecting the apparatus.

"I'm at home at the regular key," he said. "I don't know whether I can work this, though."

"Of course you can," urged the other. "Get ready. I've got the cypher key and the message right here," and he took two sheets of paper from his pocket.

Tom was helpless. He could not possibly force the heavy door of the closet from its fastenings. Shouting would do no good. If he attempted it, his jailers would probably treat him roughly, for they were vicious-looking fellows. Tom hoped for the return of Ben and Harry, or the arrival of someone else to interrupt the man at the table. Meanwhile he was on the keen alert as to all that individual was doing.

The minute this man got his bearings, he started in with confidence. Tom learned that he was flas.h.i.+ng a message to the steamer _Councillor_, bound from New York to Halifax. In plain English, the operator on the _Councillor_ was instructed to deliver a message to a pa.s.senger answering to the name of Daniel Ritchie. The message itself was a lot of private code-words, utterly unintelligible to Tom.

The sender repeated the message and got up from the table.

"Hit or miss, that is the best I can do," he remarked.

"Hit or miss, you've done all that could be expected of you," remarked his companion. "What are you going to do with him?" questioned the speaker, with a shrug of his shoulders towards Tom's place of imprisonment.

"Oh, leave him where he is. We want a start, and someone will come along to let him out. So long, son. You might have made ten dollars if you'd saved me the trouble of showing you that I'm some wireless myself."

Both men laughed coa.r.s.ely and left the tower. Tom knew it was futile to expect his liberty except through the accidental visit of someone. He contented himself by trying to recall what he could remember of the message sent. He tried also to figure out the motive for the men's actions.

"They have got word to someone aboard the steamer _Councillor_," mused Tom. "The trouble they went to to do it looks suspicious and mysterious, though. h.e.l.lo!"

Tom stared hard at the trap door opening. Through it a head was protruded.

"Anybody here?" its owner called out.

"Yes, I am here," announced Tom, moving his hand through the slit in the closet door.

"Tom Barnes!"

"That's right."

And then Tom gave a start as he recognized his unexpected visitor as Bill Barber, head of the Black Caps.