The Radio Detectives Part 10

Then there was an interval when no sounds came in and Frank was about to call to Tom when, to his ears, came a suppressed "Wha-wha" followed by a hoa.r.s.e "Sssh!"

Whether Rawlins had intended this for Tom or himself Frank did not know, but he decided that, for some unknown reason, the diver wished silence and so wisely refrained from speaking.

"I would like to know what Mr. Rawlins wanted to be quiet for," said Frank, holding his hand over the mouthpiece of his microphone. "But I suppose there's some good reason for it."

Scarcely had he ceased speaking when he was startled by a sharp exclamation of surprise from Tom.

So unexpected was it that Frank responded involuntarily. "What's that you said?" he asked, exactly as though Tom had been there in the room.

But there was no audible reply, merely some faint sounds like subdued whispers, followed by silence.

"Gee, there's something mighty funny going on!" exclaimed Frank, addressing Henry. "Tom said 'Gosh' something and then, when I answer he doesn't say a thing-just some little sounds like whispers. Say, I _do_ wonder what they're up to!"

"Oh, I expect they're trying to see if they can talk together without your hearing them," suggested Henry. "Probably that's why Mr. Rawlins told you to be quiet."

"Well, I'm going to find out," declared Frank. "They've no right to keep us wondering like this."

"h.e.l.lo!" he cried into the microphone. "What on earth's the matter? I haven't heard a word from you two for five minutes. Can you hear me?"

But instead of Tom's voice in reply Frank was amazed to hear thick, guttural words rapidly spoken, and among them he made out only one that he understood, the name "Oleander."

"Henry!" exclaimed Frank, speaking in hushed tones as if he feared being overheard, "Henry, there's that fellow talking again-the one you and Mr.

Rawlins heard-talking in Dutch or something!"

Then the strange voices ceased and very faintly and indistinctly Frank heard Tom's voice asking,

"What does it mean?"

Frank was puzzled. "What does what mean?" he inquired into the microphone. But the reply, if Tom made one, was drowned out and confused by Rawlins' voice. Frank could not distinguish all the words, but he knew from the sounds and intonations that Tom and the diver were discussing some matter between them and he refrained from interrupting.

Then the voices ceased and Frank called, begging Tom to explain matters, asking if anything was wrong. But for a moment there was no reply and he wondered if his voice could be heard.

Then to his ears came Tom's familiar "Gosh!" a few unintelligible words and a shrill whistle, followed by Rawlins' voice. Part of it Frank could not catch but as he strained his ears he distinctly heard Rawlins exclaim:

"We're in a dangerous place! Come on. Let me go first!"

Frank's face paled. "Jehoshaphat!" he exclaimed to Henry who, realizing that something mysterious was taking place beneath the river, was bending close. "Jehoshaphat! They're in danger! Say, what _can_ it be?

Maybe they're caught in quicksand or a current or under a boat."

Pleadingly, with fright and worry expressed in his tones, Frank begged Tom to reply, to tell him what was wrong, what the danger was. For a s.p.a.ce he waited anxiously for his chum's reply and then, at last, it came.

"It's all right," called Tom. "Don't worry. Stop talking and just listen!"

Frank turned to Henry and disconnected the microphone by throwing off a switch to make sure that no sound could be sent.

"I guess they're all right," he said. "But I'm worried just the same.

Why should he want me to be quiet and just listen. Oh, I _do_ wish they'd come back."

"There's those foreign words again," he announced presently, "and, say-I didn't think of it before-there are two talking now."

Then followed silence, not a sound, not even a hum or buzz of interference greeted his ears and anxiously he listened, half fearful that some awful casualty had happened to Tom and Rawlins out there somewhere under the turbid waters of the river.

The moments pa.s.sed terribly slowly to the two boys and then Frank again gave a start as he heard Tom e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.e "Gosh!" followed by some rapid low-spoken words, only one of which Frank could catch-the word "wreck."

"That's it," he announced to Henry with a sigh of relief. "They've found a wreck. Gee! perhaps they've found treasure."

Henry laughed gayly. "Oh, that's good!" he exclaimed. "Treasure in the East River! You must think you're down in the West Indies or somewhere."

"Well, I don't see what's so awful funny about finding a wreck or treasure in the East River," declared Frank petulantly. "Lots of boats have sunk here and why shouldn't one of 'em have treasure on it? I don't mean millions of dollars worth of gold or jewels of course-like pirates'

treasure-but there might be a box of money or something."

"You're way off," replied Henry. "They wouldn't leave a wreck here for a week. They'd get it up or blow it up right away. Why, a wreck here would block the channel. No, sir, you heard 'em wrong."

"I did not!" stoutly maintained Frank. "I know Tom said something about a wreck. I don't care what you say. How do you know there isn't some old wreck out there somewhere? It may have been there for years; how would any one know?"

"Why, Mr. Rawlins and Tom aren't the only divers who ever went down here," insisted Henry. "The city and the government and wrecking companies and contractors have divers going down all the time. I've watched 'em working heaps of times. Father's a construction engineer and I know he always has divers at work around New York. Some of 'em would have found a wreck if it had been there."

"Well, anyway we'll know pretty soon," said Frank. "They can't stay down much longer. They must--"

With a startled cry his words ended and his scared, pale face told Henry that something dreadful had happened. Ringing in Frank's ears, shrill, filled with deadly terror, the shriek of a boy frightened almost out of his senses, came Tom's despairing cry-a wordless, awful scream.

"What's the matter?" Frank forced his paralyzed tongue to form the words. "Tom! Oh, Tom! What's wrong? Why did you yell?"

"Help! Send for help!" rang back the answer. "It's awful"-followed by words so filled with mortal terror that Frank could make nothing of them and then-"Get Dad! Get the police!"

Frank waited to hear no more. Dropping the receivers he leaped across the room, jerked the receiver from the telephone and frantically called for Mr. Pauling's number. But in his fright and terror, his fear for Tom, his hurried words were a mere jumble to the operator.

"Can't hear you," came the girl's voice. "What number did you say?"

Again Frank yelled. "Watkins 6636!" he cried, striving to make his words clear.

"Watkins 3666?" inquired the girl, and Frank could almost hear her masticating gum.

"No, 6636!" he screamed. "Hurry!"

The seconds that followed seemed like years to Frank. Across his brain flashed a thousand fears and he suffered untold agonies as he stood there, sweat pouring from his face. What if Mr. Pauling should not be in his office? Suppose the line were busy? What if the girl got the wrong number? How slow she was! Had she forgotten the call? Would no one answer? And then, when he was sure he must have waited hours, his heart gave a great leap, a load seemed lifted from his mind as he heard Mr.

Pauling's cheery, deep-throated:

"h.e.l.lo! Who is it?"

"It's Frank!" fairly screamed the boy. "Tom's in trouble! I don't know what-he's under the river-with Mr. Rawlins. He wants help! Sent for you!

Wants police!"

Then, when at last Mr. Pauling had succeeded in grasping the message and in excited tones had shouted, "All right, I'll be down instantly!" Frank sank limply to the floor.

But the next second he was up and at the table by the radio set.

"Have you heard anything?" he inquired anxiously of Henry, who had taken up the receivers and had been listening while Frank called Mr. Pauling.

"Not a word," replied Henry.