k
and the dead." He chuckled dryly.

"Well, I guess Coles Masters will think I'm one of the dead ones if I
don't rush on."

Hurrying to the next street, he boarded a car to make his way back to
the secret lower room.

During his absence things had been happening in the mysterious radio
world that hangs like a filmy ghost-land above the sleeping world.

CHAPTER IV

A GAME FOR TWO

As Curlie slipped noiselessly through the door into the secret tower
room, he was seized by the arm and dragged into his chair.

"Man! where have you been?" It was Coles Masters. He spoke in an excited
whisper. "Listen to that! It's the second message. He'll repeat it
again. They always do."

As Curlie listened, his face grew grave with concern. The message came
from the head station of the radiophone secret service bureau. That
station was located in New York. The message was a reprimand. Kindly,
friendly but firmly, it told Curlie that for two nights now someone in
his area had been breaking in on 600. Coast-to-ship messages had been
disturbed. Once an S. O. S. from a disabled fishing schooner had barely
escaped being lost. Something must be done about it at once! By Curlie!
In Chicago!

With parted lips and bated breath Curlie listened to the message as it
came to him in code. Then, with trembling fingers, he adjusted a lever,
touched a button, turned a screw and dictated to a station in another
part of the city his answering O.K. to the message.

"Of course," he said to Coles, as he lifted the receiver from his head,
"that means that this fellow that races all over the map has been at it
again to-night."

"About an hour ago," said Coles, wrinkling his brow.

"What did you do about it?"

"What was there to do? I tried to locate him. He danced about, first
here, then there. I marked his locations. They were never the same.
See," he pointed to the map. "I numbered them. He spoke from five
different points."

"What did he say?"

"It's all written down there," Coles motioned to a pad. "Can't make
head nor tail to it. Something about a map, an airplane, a boat and a
lot of gold."

"What kind of voice?"

"Sounded young. Some boy in late teens, I'd say. Though it might have
been a girl. She might have changed her voice to disguise it. You can't
tell. Had two cases like that in the last three weeks. You never can
tell about voices."

"No," said Curlie, thoughtfully, "you never can tell. That's about the
only thing