This
morning I went over to see how the place looked. It's a wonderful hotel,
that one; palm garden in the middle of it, marble columns, fountain,
painted sheet iron ceiling that'd make you dizzy to look at, and the
finest dressed people you ever saw walking around everywhere.

"Well, I found my way to the sending room of the radiophone and right
away the operator wanted to throw me out; said I was a fresh kid and
all that. But when I showed him my papers, he calmed down a lot and
showed me everything he had.

"I saw right away it wasn't his equipment that had sent that
message--that'd be like sending a Big Bertha bomb into Paris with a
twenty-two caliber rifle. He just naturally didn't have the power,
that's all. So I didn't tell him anything about it; just walked out and
went around back to where I could see the way his wires ran from the
sending room to the antenna.

"I hadn't any more than got there and had one look-up when along strolls
a man who wants to know what I'm looking at. I saw right away that he
wasn't a hotel employee for he didn't wear either a bandmaster's uniform
nor a cutaway coat, so I just smiled and said:

"Got a girl friend up there on the sixteenth floor. She's leaving this
morning and arranged to drop her trunk down to me so's not to have to
tip the porter.

"Well, sir, I hadn't more than said that than a girl did pop her head
out of a sixteenth floor window and stare straight down at me.

"The fellow actually dodged. Guess he thought the trunk was due any
minute.

"Funny part of it was the girl actually seemed interested in me, just as
if she had met me somewhere before. Of course she was too high up for me
to tell what she was like, but it made me mighty curious. I counted the
windows to right and left so I could find that room if I wanted to. The
window was only the third to the right from where the lead wire to the
antenna went up.

"Well, then, that fellow--"

"Mr. Carson?" a voice interrupted Curlie. "Anyone here by the name of
Carson?" It came from the desk-clerk of the eating place.

"That's me," exclaimed Curlie, jumping up.

"Telephone."

"All right. Be back in a minute, Joe." Curlie was away to answer the
call.

"'Lo. That you, Curlie?" came through the receiver. "This is Coles
Masters. Got a bad case--extra bad. Can't understand it. Fellow's
sending 600 meter waves, with enough power to cross the Atlantic."

"Six hundred!" exclaimed Curlie in a tense whisper. "Wh