The Radio Boys with the Revenue Guards Part 3

"But if he's a friend of Dad's," added Jack, with calm confidence, "you can count on it that he's a good sport. It will be safe to speak about our discoveries before him."

At dinner it developed that Colonel Graham was, indeed, a friend of Mr. Hampton. They had been cla.s.smates years before at Ma.s.sachusetts Inst.i.tute of Technology. During the World War, Colonel Graham had obtained a reserve commission in the Engineers and, at the conclusion of hostilities, while thousands of other officers were being demobilized, he had been given a commission in the regular army because of his distinguished record.

At dinner, the older people took the lead in the conversation, while the boys and Della were content to listen unless addressed. Colonel Graham was a brilliant conversationalist, and once he became launched on a series of war stories there was no time for the boys to interrupt, nor had they any inclination. He had been one of the handful of American engineers impressed into a make-s.h.i.+ft army by General Byng to stop the Germans when they smashed through at Cambrai, and his gripping account of those days and nights of superhuman effort to hold back the enemy until reinforcements arrived, had the boys neglecting their dinner and sitting on the edges of their chairs.

Mr. Hampton was a radio enthusiast. It was his interest in radio development, in fact, which had caused him to build the station on his estate, for purposes of trans-oceanic experiment. Eventually, therefore, the talk came around to the subject of radio. Colonel Graham was well-informed, and he told of several army officers then at work on behalf of the government at Ma.s.sachusetts Inst.i.tute of Technology, experimenting with radio-controlled automobiles, tanks and water craft.

An exclamation from Jack drew attention to him and covered him with confusion.

"Well, Jack," said his father, in mild reproof. And he looked expectantly at his son as if awaiting an explanation.

Frank came to his rescue. His quick mind also had grasped the significance of Colonel Graham's remark.

"I know what Jack is thinking of, Mr. Hampton," he said. "He's thinking of a radio-controlled airplane."

Colonel Graham smiled.

"Oh, yes," he said, tolerantly. "I mentioned only that these government experts were experimenting with radio-controlled automobiles, tanks and water craft. Of course, airplanes are being studied, too. Is that what you mean?" he asked, looking inquiringly at Jack. "I understand you lads are interested in flying."

"No, sir," answered Jack, flus.h.i.+ng a bit. "To tell you the truth, we saw a plane to-day of strange design. And we had reason to believe it was controlled by radio. I was puzzled at the time. I didn't think of radio controls. But your remarks about the officers at Ma.s.sachusetts Tech. were illuminating. I see now that this plane must have been radio-controlled."

Frank and Bob nodded approval. Their eyes were s.h.i.+ning. Mr. Hampton, Mr. Temple and Colonel Graham showed startled interest. Della leaned forward close to Frank and looked at him reproachfully, a hand on his arm.

"And you never told me a thing about it," she said.

"Didn't have any time to tell you," whispered Frank, in an undertone.

Mr. Hampton was speaking.

"Where did you see this plane, Jack?"

"Well, Dad," said Jack, "it was this way." Then he paused and looked at his chums. "Shall I tell?"

"Go ahead, Jack," urged Frank.

Bob nodded approval.

With that Jack told as briefly as possible the circ.u.mstances of their day's adventure, and also spoke of the recent interference in their radio receivers by a sharp and continuous dash sounded over a wave length of 1,375 meters. A frown of growing concentration fastened on Mr. Temple's brow as Jack proceeded. When it was apparent that Jack had concluded, Mr. Temple leaned forward.

"I suspected there was something mysterious about that man," he said.

"What man?" asked Mr. Hampton.

The others at the table looked blank.

"Why, the chap who bought the old Brownell house and property. You know the place. There are about 750 acres of land, mainly timber. This inlet, Starfish Cove as the boys call it, is on the property. And there is an old house back in the trees. It is isolated, there is no habitation near, and the house has a bad name to boot. Some of the old-timers in the settlement at the crossroads declare the place is haunted."

"So that is part of the Brownell property?" asked Mr. Hampton.

The boys looked at each other. Della surrept.i.tiously squeezed Frank's hand beneath the table. This promised to be interesting. The Brownell place was one of the delightful bugaboos of their childhood. Old Captain Brownell, a Yankee whaling skipper, was long since dead. The house had stood boarded up and untenanted for years. Tradition declared he had committed acts of piracy on the high seas during the period of his whaling voyages and that, having retired uncaught, he had come down to this secluded nook and built the great house in order to hide there from some of his old a.s.sociates whom he had cheated, but that they had found and slain him. It was his ghost, it was said in the countryside, which haunted the place.

"Yes," replied Mr. Temple, in answer to Mr. Hampton's question.

"Starfish Cove and all that land around there, where Bob found this secret radio plant located, is part of the Brownell property."

"And who is this man who bought it?" asked Bob, putting the question in all minds.

"I don't even know his name," confessed Mr. Temple. "But what I do recall are some things told me by McKay, a real estate dealer in the city who had the Brownell property on his list for a long time. He said this chap who bought the place impressed him as a man who only recently had come into the possession of money, and he wondered what he wanted with the Brownell property. The newly-rich man usually wants to make a splurge, he doesn't want to buy a country home away off somewhere, in an out of the way nook, where people can't see him. He wants to be seen.

"This man, on the contrary, apparently wanted seclusion--and he wanted a place in a secluded spot on the seacoast. That was his impressing requirement. So McKay sold him the Brownell place.

"Afterward, said McKay, he learned the new owner had put up signs all around the property, warning away trespa.s.sers. McKay said he even understood guards were to be employed to keep out intruders."

"On the landward side of that old Brownell place, Dad, they've built a high fence of heavy strands of wire on steel poles," said Bob. "I b.u.mped into it the other day. They haven't quite reached the sh.o.r.e with it, however, although I suppose they intend to."

"Well, this is interesting," said Mr. Hampton. "I wonder----"

He paused, looking thoughtful.

"What, Dad?" asked Jack.

"Oh," said his father. "New York undoubtedly is the center of powerful groups of men seeking to evade the prohibition law by bringing liquor illicitly into the country. Much of the liquor is brought by s.h.i.+p from the Bahamas and the West Indies, and then smuggled ash.o.r.e in various ways. Perhaps, the old Brownell house, built by a pirate of yesterday, is the home of a modern pirate, who directs activities from this secluded spot."

CHAPTER IV

ON THE TRAIL

After a rather late breakfast next morning for, it being vacation, the boys were under no necessity to rise early and being healthy lads took full measure of sleep, Jack appeared at the Temple home, and the three went into conference. Mr. Temple, head of a big exporting firm, had left early for the city by automobile. Mr. Hampton, reported Jack, had done likewise with his guest.

"Fellows," said Jack, "when I got up this morning, it was with the feeling that this mystery was too good to be overlooked."

Frank's eyes brightened.

"Just the way I feel about it," he declared. "I told Bob when we were dressing that we were in luck, because right at the moment it was beginning to look as if we were in for a dull summer, Fortune went and put an exciting mystery on our doorstep."

Big Bob yawned.

"Oh, you fellows don't know when you have a good thing," he said. "I suppose you want to go and stir up a lot of trouble as you did last summer. Why can't you let well enough alone?"

They were in the sitting room shared by Bob and Frank, and the latter picking up a handy pillow promptly smothered his big chum with it and then sat on him.

"Don't mind him, Jack," he panted, in the resulting tussle. "He's always like this when he gets up in the morning."

A spirited engagement followed, from which Jack discreetly kept apart.

Presently, when the couch was a wreck and Bob had Frank over his knees and was preparing to belabor him, Jack interfered.