"Wow! Hope they didn't see me!" he whispered.

A low-built, powerful car had come purring so quietly down the driveway
of the estate that it had rounded a sudden curve before he had been
aware of its presence.

Now, with undiminished speed, it turned to the right, entered the public
highway and sped straight on.

As Curlie rose from the grass to stare after it, a low exclamation
escaped his lips. Supported by high parallel bars, which were doubtless
in turn supported by strong guy wires, were the aerials of a radiophone.
The whole of this rose from, and rested upon, the body of the powerful
roadster.

"And I missed them!" he exploded, then:

"No, I didn't. They're stopping."

It was true. Some eighty rods down the road the car had slowed up. He
had no means of telling what they were doing but felt quite warranted in
supposing they were sending a message.

Like a flash he was away through the brush. Speed and the utmost caution
were necessary. If a limb cracked, if he fell over a hidden ditch, the
quarry would be frightened away. He must see what was going on, see it
with his own eyes.

Fairly holding his breath, he struggled forward. Now he had covered a
third of the distance, now half, now three-quarters and now--

His lips parted in an unuttered groan. He leaped out of the bush.
Something flashed in his hand. For a second that thing was pointed down
the road where the speedy car had suddenly resumed its journey. Then his
hand dropped to his side.

"No," he said slowly, "it won't do. Too risky. Guess they haven't seen
me. If not, they will be back. And next time," he shook his fist at the
vanishing car, "next time my fair lad or lady, you won't escape me."

Turning back, he again disappeared into the brush.

In the meantime things were happening in the air. Coles Masters, who was
in charge of the secret tower room, had his hands full. He switched on
this loud-speaker and lowered that one to a whisper. He tuned in this
one and cut that one out.

"Whew!" he exclaimed, mopping his brow, "what a night! Wish Curlie were
here."

To start the night's entertainment a boy had broken in on the radio
concert. Then a crank had come shouting right into the middle of a
speech by a politician. A few moments later a message on 1200 had fairly
burst his ear-drums. The message had been short, composed of just three
words:

"Dark, cloudy night."

"Regular thunderbolt behind that!" he muttered as he measured the