The Voice from the Void: The Great Wireless Mystery - Part 43
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Part 43

"James says, miss, that there is a man in the kitchen who wants to see you personally."

"What kind of man?" asked the girl, surprised, she being at the moment before the mirror in the feminine act of powdering her face.

"James says he's a respectable-looking working man, miss. He won't see anybody but you."

"Then I suppose I must see him. Tell James to send him round to the hall. I wonder who he can be? Begging--a starving wife and family, I expect. Ah! our poor ex-service men," she added with a sigh, "they gallantly won the war for us, and now n.o.body wants them--alas! How very cruel the world is!"

A few minutes later she descended the wide oaken staircase and pa.s.sing into the big, long-panelled hall, with its stained gla.s.s windows and its rows of old portraits, where a great wood fire burned, throwing out a sweet fragrance, she met a brown-bearded, burly-looking man in a faded blue suit, standing with his cap in his hand.

"I'm sorry, miss, to worry you," he said. "I hope you'll forgive me.

Are you Miss Elma Sandys?"

"I am."

"Well, miss," said the rough fellow, "I've found this 'ere in the water.

I work on a timber barge on the Thames and up the Wey. To-day I saw it a-floatin' on the water not far from the old ruined mill near Old Woking, so I picks it up out o' curiosity. It was unstuck, so I read the contents, and I come over 'ere by train as soon as I could."

And he handed her a damp letter written in pencil and sadly blurred by the water.

Elma held her breath as she recognised the handwriting, much of which was obliterated.

She eagerly scanned the lines of writing, and her face went pale as death.

After some words with the man, and he had given her certain directions, she managed to thank him, and gave him a pound note, for which he was very grateful. Then she rushed away to the room wherein was the wireless telephone-transmitter installed by Roddy. She turned the key in the door to be private, and at once sat down to the complicated-looking instruments into the intricacies of which her lover had already initiated her. She pulled over the switches so that the generator began to hum, and lit up the filaments of the two big electric globes. These she carefully adjusted till she had the exact current, and taking up the transmitting instrument she was about to speak.

The handle of the door turned, and she heard Rutherford's voice calling her. He had come in unexpectedly from shooting, and was motoring back to town before dinner. Forced to switch off the current, she sprang up and opened the door.

"Hallo, Rex! I was just about to amuse myself with the wireless!" she said in an affected tone of unconcern, as she joined him in the corridor and they walked together to the hall, where Hughes was ready to serve them in stately manner with tea.

Her agony of mind may easily be imagined as she sat there in a low chair beside the log fire, and in pretence of being calm gave her father and her hated lover their tea-cups, while Rutherford was full of praise as to the amount of game that remained upon the pretty old-world English estate so near London.

Elma was longing for the fellow to go. She was eager to dash back to the wireless-room and thence speak to her imprisoned lover. The whole situation held her breathless. Roddy was in deadly peril, and she alone could encourage and save him.

Those moments were, to her, like hours. She thought to excuse herself and leave the two men together, but she feared lest Rutherford might follow her and overhear her voice on the radio-telephone.

So she waited patiently till at last the man rose, and, placing one of his hot, hateful kisses upon her lips, strode out, promising to come down again on the following day if his urgent business concerning the concession would allow.

The instant he had stepped into his car, Elma, in a few hurried words, told her father of the strange message from Roddy, and showed to him the half obliterated scribble.

"Speak to him at once, dear?" cried Mr Sandys excitedly. "What can it all mean?"

Together they hastened to the wireless-room, and very soon Elma had the set going, the generator softly purring, and the valves lighted to their exact brilliancy for clear modulation of the human voice.

"Hulloa! Hulloa! Hulloa?" she cried, repeating her call six times.

"Hulloa! 3.X.Q.! Hulloa, 3.X.Q.! Can you hear me, 3.X.Q.? This is Elma speaking--Elma speaking to 3.X.Q. All right.

I-have-had-your-message-and-I-think-I-know-where-you-are! Hulloa, 3.X.Q. I will investigate at once! Hold on. Elma speaking. I will be with you very soon. 3.X.Q. 3.X.Q.! Elma-has-had-your-message. Listen!

I will repeat."

And in a clear voice she repeated what she had already said.

Afterwards, knowing that her lover could not reply, she went out to meet her father who had already telephoned across to the chauffeur to get the car ready. Both father and daughter put on their hats and mackintoshes and hurried across the back premises to the big well-lit garage. On their way they met Telford, the second gardener. His master told him to get a couple of crowbars and axes and to come along.

"I want that axe you use for felling big trees," he added.

The man went to the tool-shed in wonder, and placed them in the car.

Then all four set out in the rain upon a strange and exciting expedition.

The note had been picked up not far from the ruined mill on the bank of the river Wey. From Roddy's message it seemed to the girl that he must certainly be held prisoner within that old mill, so they drove away along the London road through G.o.dalming and Guildford until they found themselves at Woking Station. Then on inquiry, and after losing themselves three times on narrow, intricate roads, they at last came to the bank of the river, a tributary of the Thames, and presently found the dark walls of the half-ruined mill.

On pulling up Elma shouted with all her might.

"Roddy! Roddy!"

There was no response. They saw in the darkness that the river was swollen and was running swiftly towards the Thames.

"Roddy! Roddy!" the girl shouted again, whereupon at last there was a very faint response, deep down somewhere. All were silent for a few seconds.

"By Gad!" cried Mr Sandys, "he's here! Yes. He's here!"

The two servants got out the axes and crowbars and, aided by their master, attacked the heavy iron-bound door of the disused water-mill.

At first it resisted them. It was of oak and centuries old, as was the stone structure itself.

At last it yielded to the combined efforts of all four.

Inside they found a big, bare room of stone, where in the old days the sacks of corn were stored. Soon, having explored the place by the aid of two flash-lamps, and Elma calling constantly, Roddy's voice directed them to the chamber below in which his captors had placed him with such evil intent.

At last they descended a flight of winding stone steps, slippery with slime, but on reaching the last step they found the water to be high above their waists.

"Roddy!" cried Elma breathlessly, "are you there?"

"Yes, dear. I'm here! Try and open the door. But do be careful. The water is rising. It's very deep now!" was the faint reply.

They could not see the fastenings of the door on account of the black flood, but after great difficulty, all four succeeded in forcing it open, whereupon Roddy, entirely exhausted in body and in mind and at the limit of his endurance, fell back into the girl's ready arms.

Elma's voice from the void had given him courage, and his life had, after all, been saved by wireless!

There is an old Spanish proverb which says, "From poverty to wealth is the breadth of two hands: from wealth to poverty, the breadth of two fingers."

_De pobre a rico, dos palmos_!

_De rico a pobre, dos dedos_.

CHAPTER TWENTY NINE.

THE COUP.

The world of Little Farncombe was agog, for though great secrecy had been preserved it became rumoured that Miss Elma Sandys was to be married to a rich American financier, Mr Rex Rutherford.

At the hour appointed for the ceremony the bridegroom, accompanied by his friend, Mr Bertram Harrison--or Arthur Porter, to be exact--arrived at the crowded little church, but as the time went on and the bride did not arrive everyone began to whisper.