“put—put—put.” It was louder and of a different quality of sound.

“Ah!” she breathed. “Two of you!”

So she worked for an hour. At the end of that hour she knew there were four “put-puts” out there somewhere. Were they radios of American planes, enemy subs, or ships of our allies? She had no way of knowing.

Snapping off two switches, she turned on a third. After ten seconds of waiting she whispered into her mouthpiece:

“I’m alone. Come on down, can you?”

After that she whispered: “That’s swell!”

Two minutes later Nancy came tiptoeing into the dark room.

“What’s the meaning of all this darkness and secrecy?” she whispered low.

“It’s for effect,” Sally laughed. “Close the hatch softly and sit down here beside me on the deck. I’ve something for you to hear.”

Sally turned on the radio. Then as the “put-put” began, she turned the dial to catch the different grades of sound.

“That’s someone broadcasting in code,” she declared.

“Sounds more like a mouse chewing a board,” Nancy laughed.

“All the same, it’s code of some sort.” Sally insisted. “And I’m going to figure it out. Trouble is, it comes in low and indistinct.”

“An outside aerial would help, wouldn’t it?”

“Yes, of course.”

“There’s one on top of this building.”

“There is?” Sally exclaimed. “Then we’ll run a wire up to it. But how will we get it up there without being seen?”

“Let’s see.” Nancy counted up to six on her fingers. Then she slipped out through the door.

She was back almost at once with the good news that her room was directly over Sally’s. “We can run the wires along the heat pipes,” she explained. “There’s even a pipe running from my room to the attic, though I can’t see why.”

“Even then we’ll not be on the 

 Prev. P 17/121 next