CHAPTER XIX
“Do you mean to say,” stammered Prokop, “that . . . that perhaps . . .”
“We know,” Carson interrupted, “that there exist various transmitting and receiving stations. That regularly on Tuesdays and Fridays they certainly say something more than good-night. That they have at their disposition certain forces at present unknown to us: explosions, oscillations, sparks, rays or some other cursed things. Or certain counter-waves, counter-oscillations or whatever they may be called, something which just obliterates our waves, you understand?” Mr. Carson glanced about the laboratory. “Aha!” said he, and took up a piece of chalk. “It may be like this,” he went on, drawing a long arrow on the floor with the chalk, “or like this,” and he scribbled over the whole of the board and added, by wetting his finger, a dark streak. “So or so, you understand? Positive or negative. They either send new waves into our medium or interfere with ours at fixed intervals, you see? In both cases they can do without our control. Both systems are at present though technically and physically . . . a pure mystery. Hell!” said Mr. Carson and in a sudden access of anger broke the chalk into pieces, “that’s too much! To send secret messages by secret waves to a secret addressee who is doing—what do you think?”
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