Darrow, a
slight smile curving his full red lips, held them to the light. They read
as follows:
"McCarthy: A sign was promised you at six o'clock. It has been sent.
Repent and beware! Go while there is yet time.
M."
There were four of these, couched in almost identical language. The fifth
and last message was shorter:
"McCarthy: Flee from the wrath to come.
"M."
"What," said Darrow, "is to prevent the other operators who must have
caught this message from giving it to the public? What, indeed, is to
prevent M.'s appealing direct to the public?"
"I don't know," confessed McCarthy miserably. "Do you?"
"Not at this moment. Will you send for the operator who took these?"
McCarthy snatched down the telephone receiver, through which presently he
spoke a message.
"What have you got to do with this?" he demanded, after he had hung up the
hook.
"I want something," said Percy, "of course."
"Sure," growled McCarthy, once more back on familiar ground, and glad of
it. "What is it?"
"I'll tell you when I'm sure whether I can do anything for you in this
matter."
"If this fellow didn't leak, how did you know about them wireless?"
demanded McCarthy again. "How do you know who's doin' this?"
Darrow smiled.
"The man who can control the juice as this man has is a scientific
expert with a full scientific equipment. If he communicated at all, it
would be by wireless, as that is the easiest way to cover his trail.
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