THE INFERNAL MACHINES
He ripped the little mechanical eavesdropper out, wires and all, but he
did not disconnect the wires, yet.
We traced it out, and down into the cellar the wires led, directly, and
then across, through a small opening in the foundations into the next
cellar of an apartment house, ending in a bin or storeroom.
In itself the thing, so far, gave no clew as to who was using it or the
purpose for which it had been installed. But it was strange.
"Someone _was_ evidently trying to get something from you, Mr. Gaskell,"
remarked Craig pointedly, after we returned to the Gaskell library. "Why
do you suppose he went to all that trouble?"
Gaskell shrugged his shoulders and averted his eyes.
"I've heard of a yacht outside New York harbor," added Craig casually.
"A yacht?"
"Yes," he said nonchalantly, "the _Furious_."
Gaskell met Kennedy's eye and looked at him as though Craig had some
occult power of divination. Then he moved over closer to us.
"Is that detectaphone thing out of business now?" he asked, hoarsely.
"Yes."
"Absolutely?"
"Absolutely."
Gaskell leaned over.
"Then I don't mind telling you, Professor Kennedy," he said in a low
tone, "that I am letting a friend of mine from London use that yacht to
supply some allied warships on the Atlantic with news, supplies and
ammunition, such as can be carried."
Kennedy looked at him keenly, but for some moments did not answer. I
knew he was debating on how he might properly dove-tail this with
Burke's case, ethically.
"Someone is trying to find out from eavesdropping just what your plans
are, then," remarked Craig thoughtfully, with a significant tap on the
detectaphone.
A moment later he turned his back to us and knelt down. He seemed to be
wrapping the detectaphone up in a small package which he put in his
pocket and closing the hole in the wall as best he could where he had
ripped the paper.
"All I ask of you," concluded Gaskell, as we left a few minutes later,
"is to keep your hands off that phase of things. Find the
incendiary--yes; but this other matter that you have forced out of
me--well--hands off!"
On our way downtown to keep the appointment Kennedy had made with Burke
the night before, he stopped at the laboratory to get a heavy parcel
which he carried along.
We found Burke waiting for us, impatiently, at the Customs House.
"We've just discovered that the liners over at Hoboken have had steam up
for a couple of days," he said excitedly. "Evidently they are waiting to
make a break for the ocean--perhaps in concert with a sortie of the
fleets over in Europe."
"H-m," mused Kennedy, looking fixedly at Burke, "that complicates
matters, doesn't it? We must preserve American neutrality."
He thought a moment. "I should like to go aboard the revenue cutter. May
I?"
"Surely," agreed Burke.
A few moments later we were on the _Uncas_, Kennedy and Burke in earnest
conversation in low tones which I did not overhear. Evidently Craig was
telling him just enough of what he had himself discovered so as to
enlist Burke's services.
The captain in charge of the _Uncas_ joined the conversation a few
moments later, and then Kennedy took the heavy package down below. For
some time he was at work in one of the forward tanks that was full of
water, attaching the thing, whatever it was, in such a way that it
seemed to form part of the skin of the ship.
Another brief talk with Burke and the captain followed, and then the
three returned to the deck.
"Oh, by the way," remarked Burke, as he and Kennedy came back to me, "I
forgot to tell you that I have had some of my men working on the case
and one of them has just learned that a fellow named Petzka, one of the
best wireless operators,--a Hungarian or something--has been engaged to
go on that yacht."
"Petzka?" I repeated involuntarily.
"Yes," said Burke, in surprise, "do you know anything about him?"
I turned to Kennedy.
"Not much," replied Craig. "But you can find out about him, I think,
through his wife. He used to be one of my students. Here's her address.
She's very anxious to hear from him. I'm sure that if you have any news
she will be only too glad to receive it."
Burke took the address and a little while later we went ashore.
I was not surprised when Kennedy proposed, as the next move, to revisit
the cellar in the apartment next to Gaskell's house. But I was surprised
at what he said, after we had reached the place.
All along I had supposed that he was planning to wait there in hope of
catching the person who had installed the detectaphone. That, of course,
was a possibility, still. But in reality he had another purpose, also.
We had scarcely secreted ourselves in the cellar storeroom, which was in
a dark corner where one might remain unobserved even if the janitor
entered the cellar, provided he did not search that part, when Kennedy
took the receiving headpiece of the detectaphone and placed it over his
head, quite as if nothing had happened.
"What's the use of that?" I queried. "You ripped the transmitter out up
above."
He smiled quietly. "While my back was turned toward you, so that you
couldn't see," he said, "I slipped the thing back again, only down
further where Gaskell wouldn't be likely to find it, even if he looked.
I don't know whether he was frank with us, so I thought I'd try the
eavesdropping game myself, in place of the man who put this thing in in
the first place, whoever he was."
We took turns listening, but could hear not a sound. Nor did anyone come
into the cellar.
So a good part of the afternoon passed, apparently fruitless.
My patience was thoroughly exhausted when, suddenly, a motion from Craig
revived my flagging interest. I waited impatiently for him to tell me
what it was that he heard.
"What was it?" I asked finally as he pulled the receivers off his head
and stood for a moment, considering.
"At first I heard the sound of voices," he answered quickly. "One was
the voice of a woman, which I recognized. It was the Countess. The other
was the Count.
"'Giulia,' I heard him say, as they entered the room, 'I don't see why
you should want to go. It's dangerous. And besides, it's none of our
business if your father lets his yacht be used for such a purpose.'
"'But I want to go, Alex,' she said. 'I will go. I'm a good sailor. It's
father's yacht. He won't care.'
"'But what's the use?' he expostulated. 'Besides--think of the danger.
If it was our business, it might be different.'
"'I should think you'd want to go.'
"'Not I. I can get all the excitement I want in a motor-boat race
without risking my precious neck pulling the chestnuts out of the fire
for someone else.'
"'Well, I want the adventure,' she persisted, petulantly.
"'But, Giulia, if you go tonight, think of the risk--'
"That was the last I heard as they left the room, still arguing.
Evidently, someone is going to pull off something tonight."
It did not take Kennedy long to make up his mind what to do next. He
left the cellar hurriedly and in the laboratory hastily fixed up a
second heavy and bulky package similar to that which he had taken down
to the revenue cutter earlier in the day, making it into two parcels so
as to distribute the burden between us.
That night we journeyed out to Oceanhurst again. Avoiding the regular
road, we made our way from the station to the Gaskell place by a
roundabout path and it was quite dark by the time we got there.
As we approached the basin we saw that there were several men about.
They appeared to be on guard, but since Oceanhurst at that season of the
year was pretty deserted and the Gaskell estate was out of the town,
they were not especially vigilant.
Dark and grim, with only one light showing weakly, lay the yacht, having
been run into the basin, now. A hawser had been stretched across the
mouth of the basin. Outside was a little tender, while a searchlight was
playing over the water all the time. Evidently whatever interference was
feared was expected from the water rather than from the land.
We slunk into the shadow of a row of bath-houses, in order to get our
bearings. On the opposite side from the road that led down from the
house, it was not so likely that anyone would suspect that interlopers
were hiding there.
Still, they were not neglecting that side of the basin, at least in a
perfunctory sort of way.
Kennedy drew me back into the shadow, deeper, at the sound of footsteps
on the boardwalk leading in front of the bath-houses.
From our hiding place we could now hear two voices, apparently of
sailors.
"Do you know the new wireless operator who goes with us tonight?" asked
one.
"No. They've been very careful of him. I guess they were afraid that
someone might get wise. But there couldn't very well be any leak, there.
One of those Englishmen has been with him every minute since he was
engaged."
"They say he's pretty good. Who is he?"
"A Servian, he says, and his name sounds as if it might be so."
The voices trailed off. It was only a scrap of conversation, but Kennedy
had not missed a word of it.
"That means Petzka," he nodded to me.
"What is he--a Hungarian or a Servian?" I asked quickly.
Kennedy had craned his neck out beyond the corner of the bath-houses and
was looking at the _Furious_ in the basin.
"Come on, Walter," he whispered, not taking time to answer my question.
"Those fellows have gone. There's no one at all on this side of the
basin and I just saw the men on deck go up the gangplank to the
boat-house. They can't do any more than put us off, anyhow."
He had watched his chance well. As quickly as we could, burdened down by
our two heavy packages, we managed to slip across the boardwalk to the
piling that formed that side of the basin. The _Furious_ had swung over
with the tide nearer our side than the other. It was a daring leap, but
he made it as lightly as a cat, landing on the deck. I passed over the
packages to him and followed.
Kennedy scarcely paused to glance about. He had chosen a moment when no
one was looking, and, bending down under the weight of the packages we
dodged back of a cabin. A dim light shining into the hold told us that
no one was there and we dived down. It was the work of a moment to
secrete ourselves in the blank darkness behind a pile of boxes, aft.
A noise startled us. Someone was coming down the steep, ladder-like
stairs. A moment later we heard another noise. There were two of them,
moving about among the boxes. From our hiding place we could overhear
them talking in hoarse whispers, but could not see them.
"Where did you put them?" asked a voice.
"In every package of explosives and in as many of the boxes of canned
goods as I had time. There wasn't much opportunity except while the
stuff was in the boat-house."
I looked at Kennedy, wild-eyed. Was there treachery in the crew? He was
leaning forward as much as our cramped quarters would permit, so as not
to miss a word.
"All right," said the other voice. "No one suspects?"
"No. But the Secret Service has been pretty busy. They suspect
something--but not this."
"Good. You are sure that you can detonate them when the time comes?"
"Positive. Everything is working fine. I've done my part of it.
Changing wireless operators gave me just the chance I wanted."
"All right. I guess I'll go now."
"Remember the signal. As soon as the things are detonated I will get
off, some way, by wireless the S O S--as if it came from the fleet, you
understand?"
"Yes--that will be the signal for the dash. Good luck--I'm going ashore
now."
As they passed up the ladder, I could no longer restrain myself.
"Craig," I cried, "this is devilish!"
I thought I saw it all now. In the cases of goods on the _Furious_ were
some terrible infernal machines which had been hidden, to be detonated
by these deadly rays of wireless.
Kennedy was busy, working quickly putting together the parts he had
taken from the two packages we had carried.
As I watched him, I realized that the burning of the Rovigno house was
not the action of an incendiary, after all. It had been done by these
deadly rays, probably by mere accident.
As nearly as I could make it out, there was a counterplot against the
_Furious_. Somewhere was an infernal workshop, possibly hedged about by
doors of steel which ordinary force would find hard to penetrate, but
from which, any moment, this super-criminal might send out his deadly
power.
The more I considered it, while Kennedy worked, the more uncanny it
seemed. This man had rendered the mere possession of explosives more
dangerous to the possessor than to the enemy.
Archimedes had been outdone!
The problem before us now was not only the preservation of American
neutrality, but the actual safety of life.
Through the open hatch I could now hear voices on the deck. One was that
of a woman, which I recognized quickly. It was Julia Rovigno.
"I'll be just as quiet as a mouse," she was saying. "I'll stay in the
cabin--I won't be in the way."
I could not hear the man's voice in reply, but it did not sound like
Rovigno's. It was rather like Gaskell's.
Still, we had heard enough to know that Julia Rovigno was on the yacht,
had insisted on going on the expedition for the excitement of the thing,
just as we had heard over the detectaphone.
"Hadn't we better warn her?" I asked Craig, who had paused in his work
at the sound of voices.
Before he could answer we were plunged in sudden darkness. Someone had
switched out the light that had been shining down through the hatchway.
Before we knew it the opening to the hatchway had been closed.