nt, "this is a screen of very minute and
sensitive selenium cells. I don't know how to describe the process
better than to say that the tones of sound, the human voice, have
hundreds of gradations which are transmitted, as you know, by wireless,
now. Gradations of light, which are all that are necessary to produce
the illusion of a picture, are far simpler than those of sound. Here, in
this projector--"

"That is the transmitting part of the apparatus?" interrupted Kennedy
brusquely. "That holder?"

"Yes. You see there are hundreds of alternating conductors and
insulators, all synchronized with hundreds of similar receivers at
the--"

"Let me see you try this photograph," interrupted Kennedy again, handing
over the picture of Gloria which Mrs. Brackett had given him. "Signor
Franconi told me he had the telephote on several outgoing liners. Let me
see if you can transmit it. Is there any way of sending a wireless
message from this place?"

The assistant had shoved the photograph into the holder from which each
section was projected on the selenium cell screen.

"I have a fairly powerful plant here," he replied.

Quickly Kennedy wrote out a message, briefly describing the reason why
the picture was transmitted and asking that any station on shipboard
that received it would have a careful search made of the passengers for
any young woman, no matter what name was assumed, who might resemble the
photograph.

Though nothing could be expected immediately at best, it was at least
some satisfaction to know that through the invisible air waves,
wirelessly, the only means now of identifying Gloria was being flashed
far and wide to all the big ships within a day's distance or less on
which Franconi had established his system as a test.

The telephote had finished its work. Now there was nothing to do but
wait. It was a slender thread on which hung the hope of success.

While we waited, Mrs. Brackett was eating her heart out with anxiety.
Kennedy took the occasion to call up the New York police on long
distance. They had no clew to Gloria. Nor had they been able to find a
trace of Du Mond. Mrs. Du Mond also had disappeared. At the Cabaret
Rouge, Bernice Bentley had been held and put through a third degree,
without disclosing a thing, if indeed she knew anything. I wondered
whether, at such a crisis, Du Mond, too, might not have taken the
opportunity to flee the country.

We had almost given up hope, when suddenly a litt