"Do you mean we're overhearing Portsmouth ships
trying to talk to each other--that we're eavesdropping across half South
England?"
"Just that. Their transmitters are all right, but their receivers are out
of order, so they only get a dot here and a dash there. Nothing clear."
"Why is that?"
"God knows--and Science will know to-morrow. Perhaps the induction is
faulty; perhaps the receivers aren't tuned to receive just the number of
vibrations per second that the transmitter sends. Only a word here and
there. Just enough to tantalise."
Again the Morse sprang to life.
"That's one of 'em complaining now. Listen: '_Disheartening--most
disheartening_.' It's quite pathetic. Have you ever seen a spiritualistic
seance? It reminds me of that sometimes--odds and ends of messages coming
out of nowhere--a word here and there--no good at all."
"But mediums are all impostors," said Mr. Shaynor, in the doorway,
lighting an asthma-cigarette. "They only do it for the money they can
make. I've seen 'em."
"Here's Poole, at last--clear as a bell. L.L.L. _Now_ we sha'n't be long."
Mr. Cashell rattled the keys merrily. "Anything you'd like to tell 'em?"
"No, I don't think so," I said. "I'll go home and get to bed. I'm feeling
a little tired."
THE ARMY OF A DREAM
SONG OF THE OLD GUARD
"And thou shalt make a candlestick of pure gold of beaten work shall the
candlestick be made: his shaft and its branches, his bowls, his knops,
and his flowers, shall be the same.
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