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Updated: May 6, 2025
The seat the girl occupied was clamped solidly to the wall. It had broad, strong arms and to these she clung. She was staring at the floor and seemed half asleep. When Joe disappeared, Curlie once more became conscious of her presence and at once he was disturbed.
"And may I ask," the magnate's face was a mask, not a muscle moved, "how you happened to be in possession of these messages?" Curlie could hear his own heart beat, but he held his ground. "Since I am attached to the government radiophone staff, it is my duty to catch and record all unfair and illegally sent messages, to record them as evidence and for future reference."
This I know for an almost positive fact," he leaned forward impressively: "The mysterious island of the chart does not exist." "Oh!" the girl started back. "It's a fact," said Curlie, "and I'll give you my proof." He paused for a second. The girl leaned forward eagerly. Joe was all attention.
A yellow light, hanging above his stateroom door, dancing dizzily, appeared at one moment to take a plunge into the sea and at the next to dash away into the ink-black sky. Curlie was drenched to the skin. He was benumbed with the cold and shocked into half insensibility at the tremendous proportions of the storm. He wondered vaguely about the engineer below. Was the water getting at the engines?
It's after midnight that the queer birds come creeping out. I'm going to tell you about that one last night, over the ham sandwich, dill pickle and coffee. No use to try now we'd sure get broken in on." Joe Marion, who had been taken on as an understudy by Curlie, was at the present time working without pay.
Though he had been at it for months, Curlie had never quite got used to it. A detective he was in the truest sense of the word, yet how different from the kind one reads about in books. He laughed as he thought of it now. Then as his tapering fingers adjusted a screw, his brow became suddenly wrinkled in thought.
How well it would work, he could not even guess, but anything was better than sitting there helpless in the secret tower room listening to this person tearing up the air in a manner both unwise and unlawful. So here they were, prepared to make the test. "Of course," Curlie grumbled, "now we've got the trap set, the ghost may decide not to walk on this particular night.
The radiophone is going to do great things for the north, Curlie. But men like him will spoil it all. Remember this, Curlie: If you do go, be careful. Careful. He's a bad man and the stakes are big!" The whisper ceased. The silence that followed it was ghostly. "And that," Curlie whispered softly, "came all the way from my dear old home town. She thought I was still in the secret tower room.
"You doubt my word," his voice grew stern and hard as he read the incredulity in Curlie's eyes. "Young man," he fairly thundered, "fix this in your mind: No man ever has risen or ever will rise to my present position through treachery or deceit. When I say a thing is so, by thunder it is so!" He struck his desk a terrific blow. "But a " Curlie caught himself just in time.
"The more people there are to hear it, the more chances there are of its getting back to shore." Joe blew back into the cabin a few moments later. "Everything all right?" Curlie shouted. At the sound of his voice, the girl started, looked up, then smiled; Joe nodded his head. "Say, Joe, I'm hungry," shouted Curlie. "There's bread in the forward cabin and some milk in a thermos bottle.
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