"Upon my word!" he said. "Wireless, you think, my boy?"

"I'm sure of it, sir," said Dick.

"And so'm I," chimed in Jack. "You know, sir, I've thought ever
since war seemed certain that Bray Park would bear a lot of
watching and that something ought to be done. Just because this
is a little bit of a village, without even a railroad station,
people think nothing could happen here. But if German spies
wanted a headquarters, it's just the sort of place they would pick
out."

"There's something in that," agreed the vicar, thoughtfully. But
in his own mind he was still very doubtful. The whole thing
seemed incredible to him. Yet, as a matter of fact, it was no
more incredible than the war itself. What inclined him to be
dubious, as much as anything else, was the fact that it was mere
boys who had made the discovery.

He had read of outbreaks of spy fever in various parts of England,
in which the most harmless and inoffensive people were arrested
and held until they could give some good account of themselves.
This made him hesitate, while precious time was being wasted.

"I hardly know what to do -- what to suggest," he went on,
musingly. "The situation is complicated, really. Supposing you
are right, and that German spies really own Bray Park, and are
using it as a central station for sending news that they glean
out of England, what could be done about it?"