d
business hand. It ran:

"It is with great pleasure that I inclose a check for the sum
of the reward offered for the safe return of my son.

"(Signed) J. Anson Ardmore."

Curlie looked at the check, then uttered a low whistle.

"Pay to the order of C. Carson, $10,000.00," he whispered. Then out
loud:

"Joe, what would a fellow do with ten thousand dollars?"

"Search me," Joe grinned back. "You got the fever or something?" he
asked a second later.

Curlie showed him the check.

"Why," said Joe, "you might buy a car."

"Not much. The Humming Bird's quite good enough."

"Tell you what," he said after a moment's thought, "just get that cashed
for me, will you? Then find out where our old skipper and the engineer
live and send them a thousand apiece. After that pocket a thousand for
yourself. Then--then--Oh, well, hire me a safety deposit box and buy me
a lot of Liberty bonds. Might want 'em some day.

"And, say, that reminds me," he pointed to a square of vellum which hung
on a stretcher in the corner. "Take that over to the big library on the
North Side and tell 'em it's a present from us. It's that map Vincent
Ardmore gave me. It's worth a thousand dollars, but such maps are not
safe outside a library. Tell 'em to put it on ice," he laughed.

Scarcely had Joe departed than a keen-eyed, gray-haired man entered the
tower room. He was Colonel Edward Marshall, Curlie's superior.

"Curlie," he wrinkled his brow, as he took a seat, "there's somebody
raising hob with the radio service in Alaska."

Curlie nodded his head. "I thought there might be. Sends on 1200,
doesn't he?" He was thinking of the hotel mystery and of the strange
girl who had whispered to him so often out of the night.

"Yes, how did you know so much?"

"Part of my job."

"But you've been away."

"Radiophone whispers travel far."

"Well," said the colonel, settling down to business, "Alaska's in a bad
way. This fellow doesn't confine himself to 1200 up there. He uses all
sorts of wave lengths; seems to take pleasure in mussing up important
government communications and even more in breaking in on Munson."

"Munson, the Arctic explorer."

"Yes. He's making a try for the Pole. Much depends upon his keeping in
touch with the outside world and this crank or crook seems determined
that he shall not."

"Why don't they catch him?"

"Well, you see," he wrinkled his brow again, "the boys up ther