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It was early in the afternoon when the tender returned with several packages and coils of wire. Kennedy immediately set to work on the Nautilus stretching out some of the wire. "What is it you are planning?" asked Waldon, to whom every action of Kennedy seemed to be a mystery of the highest interest.
Jermyn at least knew more than he had told about the case. Still, the day wore away with no solution yet of the mystery. It was early the following morning when a launch drew up beside the Nautilus. In it were Edwards and Dr. Jermyn, wildly excited. "What's the matter?" called out Waldon. "They they have found the body," Edwards blurted out. Waldon paled and clutched the rail.
"Of course there have been rumors, I believe, that all was not exactly like a honeymoon still with the Tracy Edwardses." "Yes," returned Waldon slowly, "I know myself that there has been some trouble, but nothing definite until I found this letter last night in my sister's room. She never said anything about it either to mother or myself.
Waldon pointed out with obvious pride his own trim yacht swinging gracefully at anchor a half mile or so away. As we approached the houseboat I looked her over carefully. One of the first things I noticed was that there rose from the roof the primitive inverted V aerial of a wireless telegraph.
Then he announced that the private rehearsal was over. "But I'm going to work this fire-eating up into something that will cause a sensation," he said. And he made good his promise. It was about a week after this, and the circus had been traveling about, playing to good business, when Joe received a letter. In the upper left-hand corner was the imprint of Herbert Waldon, Chemist.
He fumbled in his pocket, then paused a moment and shot a glance of inquiry at Waldon, who nodded a mute acquiescence to him. "There seem to have been a number of very peculiar disappearances lately," resumed Kennedy, "but this case of Mrs. Edwards is by far the most extraordinary. Of course the Star hasn't had that yet," he concluded, handing me a sheet of notepaper. "Mr.
Waldon didn't give it out, hoping to avoid scandal." I took the paper and read eagerly, in a woman's hand: "MY DEAR MISS FOX: I have been down here at Seaville on our houseboat, the Lucie, for several days for a purpose which now is accomplished. "Already I had my suspicions of you, from a source which I need not name.
I enjoyed it anyway, for even though the ears be filled with a buzzing, the eyes are free, and San Francisco Bay is an interesting place. ". . . and the critics all agree," the passenger rambled on, "that my genius is proved by my amazingly accurate portraits of character. I have the gift. That is why I shall do 'King' Waldon so well. I need but a mental image of the man to make him live again.
"At Beach Park now, I think," replied Waldon, "a resort a few miles nearer the city on the south shore, where there is a large colony of actors." I handed back the letter to Kennedy. "What do you make of it?" he asked, as he folded it up and put it back into his pocket. "I hardly know what to say," I replied.
"Improvising my own wireless," he replied, not averse to talking to the young man to whom he seemed to have taken a fancy. "For short distances, you know, it isn't necessary to construct an aerial pole or even to use outside wires to receive messages. All that is needed is to use just a few wires stretched inside a room. The rest is just the apparatus." I was quite as much interested as Waldon.
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