The Voice from the Void: The Great Wireless Mystery Part 21

Soon after half-past eight they were back in the private sitting-room at the hotel, and having locked the door, Allen set to work. Upon the table was a small dispatch-case, and from it he took a flat dry battery, such as is used in flash-lamps, and a pair of wireless telephone receivers. The battery and telephones being carefully attached to the wires, the man took one of the receivers and listened. The ticking of the clock in the adjoining room, hardly discernible to anyone even a few yards away, was now distinctly audible.

No word was exchanged between the pair, for they were unaware whether anyone was already in the room.

Suddenly Allen raised his finger and motioned to his companion to take the other receiver. This she did eagerly, when she heard the rustling of a newspaper, followed by a man's deep cough. The old Moor was already there, awaiting the Englishman.

By means of the delicate microphone-b.u.t.ton every sound was now magnified and conveyed from His Excellency's sitting-room to the ears of the listeners. The clock had already struck nine when presently the door opened and two men entered, greeting the Moorish Minister in French.

One, who spoke French very badly, was Barclay.

The conversation which ensued, believed by the three men to be in strictest secrecy, was highly interesting to the pair of listeners four rooms away. Little did they dream that behind that soft silk-covered settee hung the tiny transmitting-b.u.t.ton, that little contrivance by which Allen had listened to private conversations many times before, conversations which had resulted in large sums being paid to him to ensure silence.

The man who had accompanied the Englishman, Barclay, appeared from their deliberations to be the Kaid Ahmed-el-Hafid, one of the most powerful officials at Fez, and their discussion concerned the granting of the concession to prospect for precious stones in the Wad Sus valley.

"And the name in which the concession is to be granted?" inquired His Excellency huskily in French.

"The name is Roderick Charles Homfray," said Barclay. "I have it here written down. If your Excellency will have the doc.u.ment drawn up and sealed, my friend the Kaid will come over and meet me here or in Paris, or even in London."

"In London," the Kaid suggested. "I have business there next month."

"And it is distinctly understood that if gems be found and a company formed that I get one-eighth share?" asked the wily old Minister.

"I have already a.s.signed that to your Excellency," replied Barclay. "I think you and the Kaid know me well enough to trust me."

"Of course we do, Monsieur Barclay," declared the Minister with a laugh.

"Very well. It is fixed. I will, immediately on my return, grant the concession to this Monsieur--Monsieur Homfray, and hand it to the Kaid to bring to you." Then, after a pause, the patriarchal old Moor added in his hoa.r.s.e voice: "Now that we have arrived at terms I have something here which will greatly facilitate Monsieur Homfray's search."

"Have you?" cried Barclay eagerly. "What's that?"

"When you sent me word in confidence some months ago about the ancient mines in the Wad Sus, I sent a trusty agent, one Ben Chaib Benuis, there to make secret inquiry. He is one of the Touareg--the brigands of the desert--and from his fellow-marauders he discovered the exact spot where the ancient workings are situated--a spot only known to those veiled nomads. They preserve the secret from the Arabs. Indeed, here I have not only a map giving the exact spot--roughly drawn though it is, yet giving the exact measurements and direction from the oasis of Raffi--but also one of the emeralds which my agent himself discovered. You see, it is still rough and uncut, yet is it not magnificent in size?"

Both men drew deep breaths. The listeners could hear their surprise as the old Minister exhibited to them proof of the continued existence of the gems at the spot marked upon the map.

"Now," went on the old man, "I will give you this map, Monsieur Barclay, but I will keep the emerald to repay myself for the expenses of my agent--eh? Be extremely careful of the map, and take all precautions for its safety, I beg of you. I have brought it over with me rather than trust it to others, Monsieur Barclay."

"I thank your Excellency. It shall not leave my possession until I hand it, together with the concession, to young Homfray--who, I may say, is enthusiastic, resourceful and daring--just the go-ahead young man we require for such a hazardous venture."

"And you will form a company in London to work the mines--eh?" the Kaid remarked.

"That is our intention. We can find the money easier in London than in Paris, I think."

"Yes, London," urged His Excellency. "I would prefer London. But," he added, "be careful of that map, Monsieur Barclay! It will be of greatest use to our young friend, whom I hope one day to see in Fez. I will then introduce him to Ben Chaib, who will obtain for him a safe conduct among the Touareg because they are always dangerous for strangers."

"Even to ourselves," laughed the Kaid, and then added: "I will be in London on the tenth of next month. But I will write to you, Monsieur Barclay, giving you notice of my arrival."

A quarter of an hour later the three men went forth together, while Freda, opening the door stealthily, saw their figures disappearing down the corridor. The Kaid was a tall, spare man in European clothes, but the Moorish Minister of the Interior was wearing his turban and flowing white burnous which spread about him as he walked.

"Quick!" she whispered to her companion. "Slip in and get out the wires, while I detach them on this side."

This he did, and, save the small hole through the wall, all traces of their ingenuity were swiftly removed.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN.

THE KEY TO A FORTUNE.

"Here's five pounds now--and fifteen more when you give it back to me, my dear little girl. Only be sure it's the right one you take!"

"But I--I really can't--I--"

"Don't be a silly fool, Lily. I only want to play a practical joke on your master. I knew him a long time ago, and it will greatly surprise him. No harm will be done, I a.s.sure you. Surely you can trust me?"

The girl Lily, well and neatly dressed, was a parlour-maid, while the man, also quite decently dressed, was somewhat older. The pair were at the moment standing at the corner of the street near Richmond Station, and it was already nearly ten o'clock at night, at which hour the girl had to be indoors.

Three weeks before she had first met Mr Henry Elton. He had sat next to her in the cinema and had spoken to her. The result had been that he had taken her to tea on several evenings, and on her "day out," which had been the previous Friday, he had taken her on a char-a-banc to Bognor. He was not at all bad-looking, a solicitor's managing clerk, he told her, and she rather liked him for his quiet, subtle manner.

But what he had asked her to do had greatly surprised her. He had promised her twenty pounds if she would press her master's little safe key into the tin matchbox filled with soft wax, and thus take an impression of it. Naturally she asked why. In reply he had explained that he and her master had, for years, been intimate friends, and that once in the club they had had a sharp discussion about safes and keys.

Her master had declared that safe-makers made no two keys alike. And now he wanted to play a joke upon him and prove to him that they did.

They had been chatting it over all that evening. The plea was certainly a thin one, but to Lily Lawson in her frame of mind, and with a gentleman as her sweetheart, it sounded quite plausible.

"Of course, I rely upon you, Lily, never to give me away," he laughed.

"I want to win the bet, and I'll give you half?"

"Of course I won't," she answered, as they still stood there, the clock striking ten. "But I really ought not to do it?"

"It isn't difficult. You say that he often leaves his keys on his dressing-table, and you know the little one which unlocks the safe in the bas.e.m.e.nt."

"Yes. It's quite a tiny key with the maker's name along the barrel of it."

"Then all you have to do is to press it well into the wax, and there's fifteen pounds for you if you give the little box back to me to-morrow night. It's so easy--and twenty pounds will certainly be of use to you, now that your poor mother is so ill."

The girl wavered. The man saw it and cleverly put further pressure upon her, by suggesting that with the money she could send her mother away for a change.

"But is it really right?" she queried, raising her dark eyes to his.

"Of course it is. It's only a joke, dear," he laughed.

Again she was silent.

"Well," she said at last. "I really must fly now."

"And you'll do it, won't you?" he urged.

"Well, if it's only a joke, yes. I'll--I'll try to do it."

"At the usual place at nine to-morrow night--eh?"

"All right," she replied, and hurried away, while the man lit a cigarette, well satisfied, and then turned into a bar to get a drink.

The man was the blackmailer Richard Allen.