were bitterly contested, went to deuce a number of times, but finally were won by Della and Frank.

“Well, Jack,” said Mr. Hampton, jokingly, as the players joined the spectators at the conclusion of the set; “I suppose you were just being chivalrous and that’s why Della beat you.” 22

Jack grinned. He and Bob knew they would be in for a certain amount of twigging because of their defeat, but he knew how to take it in good part.

“Chivalrous? Oh, yes,” he scorned. “We’d have beaten that pair of kids if we had been able. But it couldn’t be done. Della’s got a serve there that would put Mlle. Lenglen to shame. As for Frank, the boy goes crazy when he plays tennis.”

A general laugh greeted his generous praise of his opponents. Then Mr. Hampton turned to his companion and introduced him to the players as “Colonel Graham.”

After that the players hurried away to brush up and prepare for dinner.

“Shall we speak of our discoveries this afternoon?” asked Frank, brushing his hair while big Bob peered over his shoulder into the mirror, adjusting his tie.

“Why not?” asked Bob.

“Well, on account of this Colonel Graham. Who is he, by the way, Jack?”

Jack did not know. He recalled, or believed he recalled, that his father had spoken of a friend named Colonel Graham who was a famous engineer.

“But if he’s a friend of Dad’s,” added Jack, with calm confidence, “you can count on it that he’s a 23 good sport. It will be safe to speak about our discoveries before him.”

At dinner it developed that Colonel Graham was, indeed, a friend of Mr. Hampton. They had been classmates years before at Massachusetts Institute of Technology. During the World War, Colonel Graham had obtained a reserve commission in the Engineers and, at the conclusion of hostilities, while thousands of other officers were being demobilized, he had been given a commission in the regular army because of his distinguished record.

At dinner, the older people took the lead in the conversation, while the boys and Della were content to listen unless addressed. Colonel Graham was a brilliant conversationalist, and once he became launched on a series of war stories there was no time for the boys to interrupt, nor had they any inclination. He had been one of the handful of American engineers impressed into a make-shift army by General Byng to stop the Germans when they smashed through at Cambrai, and his gripping account of those days and nights of superhuman effort to hold back the enemy until reinforcements arrived, had the boys neglecting their dinner and sitting on the edges of their chairs.

Mr. Hampton was a radio enthusiast. It was his interest in radio development, in fact, which had 24 caused him to build the station on his estate, for purposes of trans-oceanic experiment. Eventually, therefore, the talk came around to the subject of radio. Colonel Graham was well-informed, and he told of several army officers then at work on behalf of the government at Massachusetts Institute of Technology, experimenting with radio-controlled automobiles, tanks and water craft.

An exclamation from Jack drew attention to him and covered him with confusion.

“Well, Jack,” said his father, in mild reproof. And he looked expectantly at his son as if awaiting an explanation.

Frank came to his rescue. His quick mind also had grasped the significance of Colonel Graham’s remark.

“I know what Jack is thinking of, Mr. Hampton,” he said. “He’s thinking of a radio-controlled airplane.”

Colonel Graham smiled.

“Oh, yes,” he said, tolerantly. “I mentioned only that these government experts were experimenting with radio-controlled automobiles, tanks and water craft. Of course, airplanes are being studied, too. Is that what you mean?” he asked, looking inquiringly at Jack. “I understand you lads are interested in flying.” 25

“No, sir,” answered Jack, flushing a bit. “To tell you the truth, we saw a plane to-day of strange design. And we had reason to believe it was controlled by radio. I was puzzled at the time. I didn’t think of radio controls. But your remarks about the officers at Massachusetts Tech. were illuminating. I see now that this plane must have been radio-controlled.”

Frank and Bob nodded approval. Their eyes were shining. Mr. Hampton, Mr. Temple and Colonel Graham showed startled interest. Della leaned forward close to Frank and looked at him reproachfully, a hand on his arm.

“And you never told me a thing about it,” she said.

“Didn’t have any time to tell you,” whispered Frank, in an undertone.

Mr. Hampton was speaking.

“Where did you see this plane, Jack?”

“Well, Dad,” said Jack, “it was this way.” Then he paused and looked at his chums. “Shall I tell?”

“Go ahead, Jack,” urged Frank.

Bob nodded approval.

With that Jack told as briefly as possible the circumstances of their day’s adventure, and also spoke of the recent interference in their radio receivers by a sharp and continuous dash sounded over a wave 26 length of 1,375 meters. A frown of growing concentration fastened on Mr. Temple’s brow as Jack proceeded. When it was apparent that Jack had concluded, Mr. Temple leaned forward.

“I suspected there was something mysterious about that man,” he said.

“What man?” asked Mr. Hampton.

The others at the table looked blank.

“Why, the chap who bought the old Brownell house and property. You know the place. There are about 750 acres of land, mainly timber. This inlet, Starfish Cove as the boys call it, is on the property. And there is an old house back in the trees. It is isolated, there is no habitation near, and the house has a bad name to boot. Some of the old-timers in the settlement at the crossroads declare the place is haunted.”

“So that is part of the Brownell property?” asked Mr. Hampton.

The boys looked at each other. Della surreptitiously squeezed Frank’s hand beneath the table. This promised to be interesting. The Brownell place was one of the delightful bugaboos of their childhood. Old Captain Brownell, a Yankee whaling skipper, was long since dead. The house had stood boarded up and untenanted for years. Tradition declared he had committed acts of piracy on the high 27 seas during the period of his whaling voyages and that, having retired uncaught, he had come down to this secluded nook and built the great house in order to hide there from some of his old associates whom he had cheated, but that they had found and slain him. It was his ghost, it was said in the countryside, which haunted the place.

“Yes,” replied Mr. Temple, in answer to Mr. Hampton’s question. “Starfish Cove and all that land around there, where Bob found this secret radio plant located, is part of the Brownell property.”

“And who is this man who bought it?” asked Bob, putting the question in all minds.

“I don’t even know his name,” confessed Mr. Temple. “But what I do recall are some things told me by McKay, a real estate dealer in the city who had the Brownell property on his list for a long time. He said this chap who bought the place impressed him as a man who only recently had come into the possession of money, and he wondered what he wanted with the Brownell property. The newly-rich man usually wants to make a splurge, he doesn’t want to buy a country home away off somewhere, in an out of the way nook, where people can’t see him. He wants to be seen.

“This man, on the contrary, apparently wanted seclusion—and he wanted a place in a secluded spot