"What a fine place for a murder," laughed Kennedy coolly. He was
unwrapping the package which he had taken from me. It proved to
be a huge reflector in front of which was placed a little arrangement
which, under the light of a shaded lantern carried by Herndon, looked
like a coil of wire of some kind.
To the back of the reflector Craig attached two other flexible wires
which led to a couple of dry cells and a cylinder with a broadened
end, made of vulcanised rubber. It might have been a telephone
receiver, for all I could tell in the darkness.
While I was still speculating on the possible use of the enormous
parabolic reflector, a slight commotion on the opposite side of the
pier distracted my attention. A ship was coming in and was being
carefully and quietly berthed alongside the other big iron freighter
on that side. Herndon had left us.
"The Mohican is here," he remarked as he rejoined us. To my look
of inquiry he added, "The revenue cutter."
Kennedy had now finished and had pointed the reflector full at La
Montaigne. With a whispered hasty word of caution and advice to
Herndon, he drew me along with him down the wharf again.
At the little door which was cut in the barrier guarding the shore
end of La Montaigne's wharf Kennedy stopped.
Pages:
345
346
347
348
349
350
351
352
353
354
355
356
357
358
359
360
361
362
363
364
365
366
367
368
369