The Radio Detectives Read online

  "HELP! SEND FOR HELP!"]

  THE RADIO DETECTIVES

  by

  A. HYATT VERRILL

  Author of "The Deep Sea Hunters," "Isles of Spiceand Palm," "The Book of the Motor Boat," etc.

  D. Appleton and CompanyNew York :: 1922 :: London

  Copyright, 1922, by D. Appleton and Company

  Printed in the United States of America

  CONTENTS

  CHAPTER I--TOM TAKES UP RADIO CHAPTER II--MYSTERIOUS MESSAGES CHAPTER III--THE RADIO DETECTIVES CHAPTER IV--THE BOYS DRAW A BLANK CHAPTER V--THE UNDER-SEA WIRELESS CHAPTER VI--THE RED MENACE CHAPTER VII--THE CRY FROM THE DEPTHS CHAPTER VIII--ASTOUNDING DISCOVERIES CHAPTER IX--THE BATTLE BENEATH THE RIVER CHAPTER X--RADIO WINS CHAPTER XI--HENDERSON HAS AN INTERVIEW CHAPTER XII--THE CONFESSION CHAPTER XIII--RAWLINS' PROPOSAL

  THE RADIO DETECTIVES

  CHAPTER I--TOM TAKES UP RADIO

  "Oh, Dad! I've made a new set," cried Tom, as he entered the diningroom.

  "That so, Son?" replied Mr. Pauling interestedly. "Seems to me you boysdo nothing but junk your sets as fast as you make them and build others.Does this one work better than the last?"

  "It's a peacherino!" declared Tom enthusiastically. "Just wait till yousee it and listen to the music coming in."

  "I'll come up after dinner," his father assured him. "Let me know whenthe fun begins. I've some papers to go over in the library first."

  Throughout the meal the talk was all of radio, in which Tom and his boyfriends had become madly interested and in which Tom's father and motherhad encouraged him.

  "Go to it, Tom," his father had said when the boy had glowinglyexpatiated on the wonderful things he had heard on a friend's instrumentand had asked his father's permission to get a set. "I'm glad you'reinterested in it," he had continued. "It's going to be a big thing inthe future and the more you learn about it the better. But begin at thebeginning, Tom. Don't be satisfied merely with buying instruments andusing them. Learn the whole thing from the bottom up and use yourmechanical ability to build instruments and to make improvements. Wishthey'd had something as fascinating when I was a kid."

  Tom had lost no time in availing himself of his father's permission, andof the roll of bills which had accompanied it, and there was no prouderor more excited boy in Greater New York than Tom Pauling when hetriumphantly brought home his little crystal receiving set and exhibitedit to his parents.

  "I can't understand how a little box with a few nickel-plated screws andsome knobs can do all the things you say," was his mother's comment."But then," she added, "I never could understand anything mechanical orelectrical. Even a phonograph or an electric light is all a mystery tome."

  Mr. Pauling looked the instrument over carefully and listenedattentively to Tom's graphic explanation of detectors, tuners,condensers, etc.

  "H-m-m," he remarked, "I guess I'll have to take a back seat now, Son.You evidently have a pretty good grip on the fundamentals. Sorry I can'thelp you any, but it's all Greek to me, I admit."

  "Oh, it's all mighty simple," Tom assured him. "Frank's coming over thisafternoon and we're going to put up the aerial and then you and mothercan hear the music and songs from Newark to-night."

  But despite the fact that Mrs. Pauling declared it the most remarkablething she had ever seen or heard, and his father complimented him, Tomwas far from satisfied with his first set. He didn't like the idea ofbeing obliged to sit with head phones clamped to his ears in order tohear the music from the big broadcasting stations; he felt that it wasmighty unsatisfactory for only one person to hear the sounds at one timeand he soon found that despite every effort he was continuallyinterrupted by calls and messages from near-by amateur stations.

  Being of a naturally inventive and mechanical mind and remembering hisfather's advice to try to improve matters, he spent all his spare timestudying the radio magazines, haunting the stores where radio suppliesand instruments were sold and arguing about and discussing variousdevices and sets with his boy friends. Hardly a day passed that he didnot arrive at his home carrying some mysterious package or bundle.Accompanied by his chum Frank, from the time school was over until latein the evening he kept himself secluded in his den while faint sounds ofhammering or of animated conversation might have been heard within.

  "What's all the mystery, Son?" his father had asked on one occasion."Going to spring some big invention on an unsuspecting world?"

  Tom laughed. "Not quite, Dad," he replied, "but I'm going to give youand mother a surprise pretty soon."

  When at last all was ready and his parents were invited to Tom's holy ofholies they were indeed surprised. Upon a small table were variousinstruments and devices and a seeming tangle of wires, while, tuckedaway on a bookshelf, was the little crystal set which had so recentlybeen Tom's pride and joy.

  And still greater was their surprise when, after busying himself overthe instruments, the faint sounds of music filled the room, comingmysteriously from the apparent odds and ends upon the table.

  "It's all homemade," Tom had explained proudly. "But it works. Frank andI rigged it up just as an experiment. Now I'm going to reassemble it andput it in a case and have a regular set."

  "Wait a minute, Tom," his father had interrupted. "You'll have toexplain a bit. If that lot of stuff can give so much better results thanthe set you bought, why didn't you make it in the first place, andwhat's the difference anyway?"

  "Well, you see, Dad," Tom tried to explain, "I had to start at thebottom as you said and a crystal set's the bottom. This is a vacuum tubeset. Those things like little electric lights are the tubes and they'rethe heart of the whole thing, and I've a one-step amplifier and that hasto have another tube. I didn't have enough pocket money to buyeverything so Frank lent me some of his. You see it's this way----"

  "Never mind about the technicalities," laughed his father. "As I saidbefore, go to it. Get what you need and keep busy. It's a fine thing foryou boys. Now turn her on again, or whatever you call it, and let's hearsome more music."

  From that time, Tom's progress was rapid although, as his father hadjokingly remarked, the boy's chief occupation appeared to be buildingsets one day only to tear them down and reconstruct them the next.

  Tom's room had assumed the appearance of an electrical supply shop.Tools, wire, sheet brass, bakelite, hard rubber knobs, odds and ends ofmetal, coils and countless other things had taken the places of books,skates, baseball bats and papers, and the fiction magazines had givenway to radio periodicals, blue prints and diagrams. Mrs. Pauling was indespair and complained to her husband that Tom was making a dreadfulmess of his room and expressed fears that he might get hurt fooling withelectricity.

  "Don't you fret over that," her husband had advised. "Tom and hisfriends are having the time of their lives. As long as they are learningsomething of value, what does it matter if they do keep his room in amess? Besides, it's clean dirt you know--and it's orderly disorder if youknow what I mean. They're exploring a new world and haven't time to lookafter such trifles as having a place for everything and everything inits place. That will come later. Just now they are fired with the zealand enthusiasm of great inventors and scientists. We mustn't interferewith them--such feelings come to human beings but once in a lifetime. Iconsider this radio craze the best thing for boys that ever occurred. Itgives them an interest, it's educational, it keeps them off the streetand occupies their brains and hands at the same time. Do you know, if Ididn't have my time so fully occupied, I believe I'd get bitten by thebug myself. Besides, they may really discover something worth while. Iwas talking to Henderson of our staff to-day--he had charge of our radiowork during the war--and he tells me some of the best inventions in radiohave been made by amateurs--qui
te by accident too. I expect Tom knowsthat and that's what makes the kids so keen on the subject--it's awonderful thought to feel you may stumble on some little thing that willrevolutionize a great science at any moment."

  "Yes, I suppose you're right, Fred," agreed Tom's mother resignedly."But I do wish it were possible to have boys amuse themselves withouttracking shavings all over the halls and burning holes in their clothesand having grimy fingers."

  But Tom's mother need not have worried. Gradually order came out ofchaos. As the boys progressed, they found that the accumulation of oddsand ends and the disorder interfered with their work; many experimentalinstruments and devices had been discarded and were now tossed into ajunk box in the closet; a neat work table with the tools handilyarranged had been rigged up and Tom and Frank had developed awell-equipped and orderly little workshop with the completed instrumentson an improvised bench under the window.

  Both Mr. and Mrs. Pauling had noticed the gradual improvement, as fromtime to time they had been summoned by Tom to witness demonstrations ofthe latest products of the boys' brains and hands, and both parentscongratulated the boys on their handiwork and the strides they had made.So, on the night when Tom had assured his father that his latest set wasa "peacherino," the two grownups entered a room which, as Mr. Paulingexpressed it, reminded him of a wireless on a ship.

  And then, after Tom with the glowing eyes and flushed face of aninventor and the pride of a showman, had exhibited his latestachievement and had explained its mysteries in terms which were utterlyunintelligible to his parents, they sat spellbound as the strains of amilitary band fairly filled the room.

  "Fine!" declared Mr. Pauling when the concert ended. "You have got a'peacherino' as you call it."

  "Oh, that's nothing," declared Tom deprecatingly. "I can get Pittsburghand I can get spark messages from Cuba and Canada, and last night Ipicked up a message from Balboa. I'll hear England and France before I'msatisfied."

  "Bully!" exclaimed his father. "Tell you what I'll do. I'm off to Cubaand the Bahamas, Monday, you know. I'll radio from the ship on the waydown and after I get there you can see if you can pick up my messagesdirect and can talk back."

  "Oh, I can't do that, yet," declared Tom. "I haven't a sending set. Youhave to get a license for that, but I'm going to get at it right away.It will be fine to be able to hear you. I'll bet I can get your messagesfrom Cuba and Nassau. Say, it will be almost like hearing you talk."

  "How shall I address them?" chuckled his father. "Tom Pauling, The Air?"

  "Gee! I hadn't thought of that," ejaculated Tom. "I haven't any callletters--only sending stations have them--I've got it! When you send amessage, just address it as if it were a regular message and then I'llknow it's for me. And send them the same time every time--then I'll besure to be here and waiting to get them."

  "Righto," agreed his father. "I'll be sending a good many officialmessages, I expect, and I can get them all off together each day--say7:45. How will that be?"

  "That'll be fine," assented Tom. "I'll be here at half-past seven everynight listening. Say, Dad, do you suppose those smuggler fellows useradio?"

  "Why, I don't know; what made you ask?"

  "Oh, I just happened to think of it," replied Tom. "I guess yourspeaking of sending official messages and starting for Cuba and theBahamas just put it in my head."

  "Well, if we don't find how they're getting liquor into the States bywholesale pretty quick, I'll begin to think they're sending the booze inby radio," laughed Mr. Pauling. "It's the most mysterious thing we'vebeen up against yet. Can't get a clue. Perhaps they are using radio towarn one another, or maybe they're onto our codes. Suppose you keeptrack of any odd messages you hear, Tom. I don't suppose there'sanything in it, but it will give you another interest and one neverknows what may happen through chance or accident. Remember that coup Itold you about that we made during the war--that meaningless message thatpassed all the censors and that, by pure accident, led to the capture ofthe worst lot of German plotters in the country?"

  But Frank had not heard the story and so, from radio, the conversationdrifted to Mr. Pauling's experiences as an officer of the Department ofJustice during the war and from that to his present problem of tracingto its source the mysterious influx of liquor which was flooding NewYork and other ports despite every effort of the government to stop it.

  It was on this work that he was leaving for the West Indies, and longafter he and Mrs. Pauling had left the room, Tom and Frank remained,talking earnestly, and with boyish imagination discussing thepossibilities of aiding the government through picking up some strayinformation from the air by means of their instruments.

  "We ought to have better sets," declared Tom. "These are all right forgetting the broadcasted entertainments and spark signals, but we can'tget the long waves from the big stations. And we don't always getfarther than Arlington or Pittsburgh with this. Last night, we heardBalboa, but the night before that we couldn't get Havana. If we're goingto hear Dad from Nassau or Cuba we want a set we can depend upon."

  "I'll tell you what we'll do," replied Frank. "Let's put everything thatwe both have together and have a fine set here in your room. I'll bringmy stuff down and we can work together--have duplicate sets andeverything--and I'll just keep that little old set of mine so I can useit when I happen to be home."

  "That's a good idea," agreed Tom, "Dad's so interested in our work I canspend a lot more money on instruments and he won't mind and school willsoon be over and we can devote all our time to it. Gosh, I bet we havethe best sets of any boys in the whole of New York! Say, won't it begreat when we can hear messages from England and Germany and France?"

  "Yes, and we want to get busy on a sending set too. It's twice as muchfun when we can talk to others as well as hear them. And say! my folksare going to Europe next month. If your mother and father don't mind Icould stay here with you."

  "That's bully! Of course mother won't mind and Dad will be glad to haveyou," declared Tom. "We're not going any place this summer and so we cangive all our vacation to radio. Say, we may make some big discovery orinvention. I was reading the other day about how many things there areto be done in radio yet and the fellow that wrote it said he believedsome of the big things would be discovered by boys or beginnersaccidentally."

  Mrs. Pauling was very glad to have Frank plan to stay with Tom while hisparents were absent and for several days the two boys were busy packingup Frank's radio outfits and carrying them to Tom's house.

  When at last everything was there the boys had a veritable treasuretrove of materials, for Frank had not been stinted in the amount hecould spend on good tools, supplies and instruments and, while he didnot possess the mechanical or inventive ability of Tom, yet he was avery careful and painstaking worker and everything he had was of thebest.

  Tom, on the other hand, preferred to make everything himself and,although his father was willing to let him have any sum within reason tocarry on his radio work, he spent most of the money for tools andsupplies and had built a number of special instruments which even Frankadmitted were big improvements over ready-made devices. In addition, hehad a very complete library of radio books as well as scrapbooks filledwith clippings from the radio columns of the various newspapers andperiodicals. Hence the two boys made most excellent partners forcarrying on their experiments and building their sets. Fortunately, too,they were not the type of boys who soon become tired of a subject andtake up one fad after another and, while they were both strong,red-blooded, out-of-door boys, always ready for the most strenuousgames, long hikes or hunting and fishing, they found radio so much morefascinating than football, baseball or other sports that practicallyeverything else had been abandoned.