Taking the “Wireless” Out of “Wireless Shoes”
In ten minutes the Jetta was alongside the Atlantic liner, Manhattan,
and an officer descended into the yacht to make an inspection. A glance
satisfied him, and he gave orders for receiving the rescued castaways on
board the steamer.
The captain invited the crew of the yacht also to accept passage to New
York, promising to take the Jetta in tow. This plan was satisfactory to
Walter and his two companions and was adopted. The dead bodies on the
yacht were then taken aboard and treated with embalming preservatives.
The Manhattan was due at New York on the second day following. The
rescued castaways were offered every convenience that ingenuity and
generosity could devise. The injured and the ill were given medical
attention, while the others were reinvigorated with hot baths and fresh
clothing, a “swell feed,” according to Glennon and “the most comfortable
staterooms they ever slept in.”
Walter, Tony, and Det, not being in particular need of revival and
refreshment, were kept busy until late in the night reciting their
accounts of the rescue. And it was not long before they were commonly
pronounced heroes of the first water by the passengers. Particularly was
this honor extended to Walter, for Det and Tony insisted that he be
given all the credit due him.
“If that boy doesn’t get a Carnegie medal, we ought to blow the whole
board of trustees up with T N T,” declared one large, red-faced,
ungentle gentleman, swelling as if to burst with indignation at the
failure of the hero board to appear magically on the spot and make its
award before anybody else thought about it.
Next morning those of the rescued iceberg Crusoes who were able to leave
their rooms became objects of further attention, and new features of the
disaster were brought out in reply to more questions. It was not long,
too, before special interest was directed to Guy, for if he and his
mother had not been on the Herculanea, Walter and Tony and Det would not
have made their dash to the rescue, and all these castaways would have
perished.
Second only to the “wireless twins” as characters of interest in this
midocean drama were the two Eskimos. Tarmik and Emah were dazed with the
wonder of their new surroundings. They had never dreamed of such
richness, such magnificence of nautical architecture and equipment. It
was like being transported from a desert to paradise. Professor
Anderson, who had recovered from his injuries, was pressed into service
as an interpreter, and the two fur-clad Greenlanders were kept busy
answering questions until they exhibited signs of weariness.
Gunseyt also established a reputation as an interesting story teller. He
added a number of odd touches to the general narrative, thus creating a
demand for his “edition” of the account. But he said nothing about his
attempted invasion of the Eskimo camp, and nobody else saw fit to create
any useless gossip on the subject. Guy listened to him on several
occasions and remarked to his brother about the change in the man’s
voice. When they found an opportunity to converse together without
interruption, Walter asked:
“Have you any idea why he’s being followed by a detective?”
“Not the slightest,” answered Guy, “I thought he was crazy just before
the ship went down.”
“Why—what did he do?”
Guy described the actions of Gunseyt from the time he appeared at the
Burton stateroom and offered his assistance to the time when he was
observed in solitary retreat on the sinking ship with the “wireless
shoes” and the tennis racket. This account included a short description
and history of the “wireless shoes” and Gunseyt’s strange interest in
them.
“That’s funny,” said Walter. “No wonder you thought he was crazy. Didn’t
he act queer on the iceberg?”
“Not exactly, but he proved himself a rascal.”
Guy then related the attempted invasion of the Eskimo camp with Gunseyt
as leader.
“Who did that London man tell you to express the ‘wireless shoes’ to?”
asked his brother.
“A man named Pickett.”
“Pickett!” exclaimed Walter. “Does he live in New York?”
“Yes.”
“And his first name—do you remember it? Was it Stanley?”
“How did you know?” demanded the astonished Guy.
“I bet I’ve got a clew to the mystery,” returned Walter eagerly.
“Pickett’s the name of the man who sat behind you and mother on the
train when you left Ferncliffe. Didn’t I tell you his name in one of my
letters?”
“No, I don’t think you did. I don’t remember it.”
“I must ’a’ forgotten. I intended to. How about the tennis racket—where
did he get that, do you suppose?”
“I haven’t any idea, unless—”
Guy suddenly became deeply thoughtful.
“Unless what?” his brother asked.
Guy looked at Walter with a composite expression—doubt, surprise,
wonder, expectancy.
“Say, Walt, I’m beginning to wake up,” he announced. “There’s something
in this business that looks funnier and funnier the more I think of it.
Gunseyt played tennis on the Herculanea, but he didn’t have a racket of
his own. Anyway, he used one belonging to the ship. But Glennon had one,
and it was given to him by the same man that gave me the shoes. Moreover
it, was a ‘wireless racket’—like the shoes—to put pep in your arm.”
“No!” exclaimed Walter.
“Yes,” Guy insisted. “Come on, I’m going to find Carl Glennon and ask
him some questions. We never talked the matter over because we didn’t
suspect anything; at least I didn’t. Now, I’ve got something in my
mind.”
“So have I,” said Walter; “and everything you say only makes me more
certain of it.”
The brothers hunted fifteen minutes before they found the young man in a
veranda cafe where several passengers were listening to the story he had
told “forty-’leven times.” Guy interrupted with an apology and informed
the narrator that he wished to speak to him. Glennon excused himself and
walked away with the two Burtons.
“We’re in a puzzle over that fellow Gunseyt,” began Guy as they took
seats in a farther corner of the room. “We’re satisfied that there’s
something deep in him, and we want to ask you some questions.”
“Fire away,” said Glennon. “I’m as much interested as you are. In my
opinion he’s a rascal and ought to be jugged.”
“I wanted to ask you about that tennis racket that Smithers gave you. Do
you know what became of it?”
“I suppose a mermaid’s got it battin’ codfish balls over a fish net.”
“But suppose the racket was broken before it went down—what then?”
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“Didn’t you see Gunseyt near the elevator just before you and Watson and
I ran out on the open deck?”
“Was that Gunseyt? I saw a man there.”
“And didn’t you see him break a racket over his knee?”
“Yes, I did,” said Glennon, “and I wondered what he was doing that for.”
“Well,” continued Guy, “now that you know who he was, whose racket do
you suppose he had?”
“Why? Did he have mine?”
“That’s my guess. Do you know how he got it?”
“I saw him near my stateroom when I ran out to see what was the matter.
I left my door open in my hurry, I suppose. I know I didn’t lock it.”
“That explains it all. Everything’s cleared up to my satisfaction.”
“But what does all this mean?” inquired the mystified Glennon. “I seem
to have run up against a Chinese puzzle.”
“It’s as simple as A B C, after my wise brother here gave my sleepy head
a thump and woke me up,” replied Guy. “Mr. Gunseyt is probably a friend
of Mr. Smithers of London.”
“Yes.”
“And also of a Mr. Pickett of New York.”
“I don’t know him.”
“We’ll tell you more about him later. But he’s also a friend of
Everleigh and Little, as we know positively.”
“Yes.”
“And soon after the Herculanea started, Gunseyt made the acquaintance of
you and me.”
“Yes.”
“And you and I were acquainted with Mr. Smithers.”
“Yes.”
“And Mr. Smithers had given you a wireless tennis racket as a present?”
“He did.”
“And me a pair of ‘wireless shoes’ to express to Mr. Pickett at New
York.”
“Well?”
“And after it was found that the ship was sinking, Mr. Gunseyt got
possession of your racket and the shoes.”
“Yes, that’s all very interesting, but still I don’t see the
conclusion,” said Glennon blankly.
“It’s coming,” assured Guy. “You and I both saw him break the handle off
the racket. I saw something else that I wasn’t sure of at the time. But
now I’m certain of it. He’d torn the heels off the shoes.”
“You don’t say!”
“Yes, I do. And there was a detective, Mr. Watson, on his track all this
time.”
“My goodness!”
“It’s about time for you to get excited. Here’s something more to excite
you: Let me remind you that Mr. Smithers is a jeweler.”
Glennon made a pass with one hand before his eyes as if dazed.
“You don’t mean that Smithers and Gunseyt—” he began with a gasp.
“Here comes Watson; let’s see what he says about it,” interrupted Guy,
as he signaled the operative to approach. “I bet he’ll say the
‘wireless’ part of those shoes and that racket was a fake. I don’t
believe, anyway, that the electro-magnetic current picked up by a
wireless receiving instrument is strong enough to have any effect in an
induction coil.”
“I thought there was something funny in that,” Walter remarked.