BRADY'S PROPOSITION.
"How do you feel, Carl?" asked Matt, when the Hawk was safely clear of the ground and swinging easily along through the night.
"I feel like my headt vas as pig as a parrel," answered Carl. "Py shiminy, dot vas a svipe vat I got. I see pooty ret lights aroundt me, und I don'd know somet'ing ondil lader."
"It's a cinch, matey," spoke up Ferral, "that Brady laid that trap, and that we only got out of it by the skin of our teeth."
"What do you say to that, Brady?" asked Matt.
"It's mighty unfortunate—for me," replied Brady, from the bottom of the car. "I laid a trap, King, but not that kind. What I wanted, was to talk you into helping me rescue Helen. I don't know yet how Whipple and Pete managed to show up there when they did. They didn't see me, and they don't know now that you've captured me."
"As soon as we can get to South Chicago," said Matt, "we'll tell Harris those fellows are here. This is the first clue the police have had as to where they are."
"A good night's work, mate," said Ferral, "strike me lucky if it ain't. Harris will be all ahoo when we tell him that it was Brady who wrote that letter."
"Don't take me back to South Chicago just yet," pleaded Brady, struggling to a sitting posture and leaning against the rail at the side of the car. "If Pete andWhipple are away from that shanty in La Grange, this will be a good time to get Helen."
"He talks mit two tongues vorse as any feller vat I know," remarked Carl.
"He thinks he can keep on fooling us," scoffed Ferral.
"Listen to me, that's all I ask," pursued Brady, desperately earnest. "Pete and Whipple, helped by a man named Hooligan, got the girl away from her friends in Chicago, and——"
"How did they do it?" interrupted Matt.
"Hooligan met Helen on the street, and told her that her brother, Hector Brady, Jr., was sick and wanted her to come to him at once. Helen knew the police were looking for my son, just as they were for the other members of my gang who had escaped the officers, and she did not dare to go back to her friends and tell them where she was going. Hooligan told her it wouldn't be necessary for her to say anything, as she could get back to Archer Avenue in the afternoon. Hooligan took Helen by train to River Forest, a suburb of Chicago, and not far from La Grange. He's care-taker during the summer for a house in River Forest, Hooligan is, and he took the girl there. The moment the girl reached the house, Whipple and Pete made a prisoner of her, and turned her over to Mrs. Hooligan. When it became night, Helen was taken to a house owned by the Hooligans in La Grange—and Helen has been there ever since. Last night I was in La Grange and I spotted the house, but the gang were too many for me and I didn't dare try to rescue Helen alone. I had already thought of you and the Hawk, King, and I knew we could turn the trick if I could only get you to help."
The facts were surprising—providing they were the facts—and Brady's knowledge of them was equally mystifying.
"How did you learn all this, Brady?" demanded Matt.
"Grove got the news to me while I was in prison. Whipple and Pete tried to ring him in on the deal, but Grove wouldn't stand for it. A pretty decent sort of a grafter, Grove is, but he's done with crooked work and has gone to California to lead a different life. My son, at last accounts, was in New York. By this time he's off for foreign parts. It is due to you, King, that my gang has been scattered like this, and there was a time, not many days ago, when all I asked was to be free just long enough to settle my score with you. But this strange affair of Helen's has changed all that. I'm thinking more of getting even with Whipple and Pete than I am of getting even with you. As for Helen, I can see now that the girl meant well, although what she has done has made a convict of me."
The convict was always a well-spoken man, and plainly a man of education. This, perhaps, had made him a more dangerous criminal than he would otherwise have been.
Somehow, Matt was deeply impressed by his words. The young motorist's desire to help Helen Brady probably influenced him to pay some attention to his prisoner's words.
"You're right in saying this is a strange case, Brady," said Matt. "The strangest part of it is why Whipple and Pete should go to all this trouble. What are they trying to do?"
"I've made up my mind to tell you the whole of it, King," returned Brady. "During my thieving operations around South Chicago I picked up quite a lot of valuable property. You got some of it back, but not the biggest part. I hid that away, to a place known only to me, and wrote down instructions for finding the place, and stowed the memorandum under a loose brick in the house at Lake Station, where Helen stayed for awhile after you got the Hawk away from me in Willoughby's swamp. If anything happened to me, I intended to tell Hector, Jr., where the instructions were hidden, have him get the plunder, turn it into cash, and hire lawyers to get me out of trouble. While I was waiting for my trial, there in South Chicago, I sent the letter to Hector, Jr. He had left town and the letter fell into Helen's hands. She opened it, went to Lake Station and got the memorandum. In some way, Whipple and Pete found out about it, and they engineered the abduction before Helen could turn the paper over to the police—as I know she intended doing."
A great rage welled up in Brady as he went on.
"Those two treacherous hounds want to get the plunder, and they will keep Helen a prisoner until they can make her tell where the stuff is concealed, for I imagine she destroyed the paper after reading it. That's why I want to play even with them! It was for that alone that I struck down the prison guard, got into his uniform, and escaped from the 'pen.' If you'll help me, King, I've got a proposition to make to you—and you'll find that I stand by it."
"What's your proposition?" asked Matt.
Where Brady had put the spoil of his many robberies had long been a mystery to the authorities, and Brady's recital, although one of the strangest Matt had ever heard, was logical, and bore the stamp of truth.
"It's this," went on Brady, visibly gratified because the young motorist seemed inclined to fall in with his plans; "help me rescue Helen and place Whipple and Pete in the 'pen.' If you will do that, I will go back to Joliet and finish my term, and you can rely on Helen to tell where the plunder is cached. But if anything has happened to those written instructions, and Helen can't tell, I'll give the information to you and you can have the stuff dug up and returned to the people from whom it was taken. I can't say anything fairer than that."
This was queer talk for Hector Brady. Motor Matt could hardly believe his ears. And yet, he was offering little. He had already been recaptured, so his return to Joliet was a foregone conclusion; and Helen, it was almost certain, knew the location of the caché, and it might be considered that the stolen property would be returned without any of Brady's help. That Whipple and Pete could wrest the location of the caché from Helen, Matt could not believe. He knew the girl's determination too well.
"He iss trying to make some fools oudt oof us," remarked Carl. "Don'd listen to him, Matt."
"That's the sizing I give his talk, mate," seconded Ferral. "He's a bad one, and couldn't tell the truth on a bet."
"Haven't you any gratitude for what Helen did for you?" demanded Brady. "If it hadn't been for her, you would have lost this air ship."
"That's the least of it," said Matt gravely. "Miss Brady saved Ferral's life and mine, at the time of that balloon-house plot of yours, Brady. You want to take the Hawk to the place in La Grange where Hooligan and his wife live?"
"To the place where they live when they're at home," answered Brady. "They only stay there in the winter.During the summer they're taking care of that house in River Forest."
"They're making fine use of that River Forest house!" exclaimed Matt. "But they can't be there now, if they've got Helen at the place in La Grange."
"Mrs. Hooligan has charge of Helen, and Whipple and Pete are there with her. Hooligan himself is at River Forest."
"What sort of a two-faced scoundrel is this Hooligan, that he helps criminals in such work?"
"He happens to be Pete's brother."
"That doesn't excuse him."
"Probably he's figuring on getting a share of the stuff Pete and Whipple are hoping to find. There's enough of the loot to make them all pretty comfortable. If you hadn't butted into my affairs, King, I could have sailed away in the Hawk and taken life easy for the rest of my days."
"The proper way to work this," said Matt, after a moment's reflection, "is to take you to South Chicago, Brady, leave you there, and pick up Harris and two other officers. Then you can tell us where to go and we'll have Whipple, Pete and the two Hooligans behind the bars before daylight. And Miss Brady will be safely rescued."
"That won't do at all," protested Brady. "In the first place, that will make too much of a delay at a time when every moment may count; and, in the next place, I'll have to be along to tell you where to moor the air ship and point out the house."
"He has got somet'ing oop his sleeve more as he lets oudt," answered Carl. "Go shlow a leedle, Matt; dot's der vay vat I feel aboudt it."
"Right-o," agreed Ferral. "Even though there is a little delay, Matt, it's better to go to South Chicago and pick up Harris than to let Brady lead us into a mare's nest."
Brady showed signs of exasperation.
"I don't believe you want to do anything for Helen!" he growled.
"Yes, we do," said Matt, "and we're going to La Grange at once; but we're going to leave those ropes on you all the time, Brady, and I'll reconnoitre Hooligan's house and find out if your yarn is straight goods before we sail in there and get ourselves into possible trouble."
"That suits me," and Brady floundered to his knees and looked over the rail. For a long time he peered downward, evidently getting his bearings. "Make a half turn to the left," said he, "and speed up the engine. I'll stay right here and tell you exactly where to go. You'll never regret making this move, King. All I have to gain is the satisfaction of rescuing Helen Brady and getting the stripes on Whipple and Pete."
Matt, full of wonder at the way events were falling out, turned the air ship in the direction indicated by Brady and increased the speed of the propeller.
A SURPRISE AT HOOLIGAN'S.
Instructed by Brady, who knelt on the floor of the car and watched keenly as they traveled through the air, Matt brought the Hawk down in a vacant lot back of a high billboard.
The houses in the neighborhood were dark, as it was after midnight, and the vague bulk of the gas bag, looming over the top of the billboard, would hardly have claimed the attention of any chance passerby on the sidewalk. At that hour, too, there were not liable to be any travelers in the street. The Hawk carried no lights, and the only noise she made in descending was caused by the low murmur of the cylinders.
The craft was moored to the supports of the billboard, on one side, and to a heavy wagon on the other. The wagon was a truck, and it was evidently the owner's custom to leave it over night in the lot.
"I got the lay of the land when I came in here from the quarry," explained Brady, in a low voice, "and I had just such an emergency as this in mind. Directly across the alley is Hooligan's house. If you want to reconnoitre, King, go ahead, but I'd advise you to be careful, for Whipple would be quick to use a knife or a revolver on you if he got the chance."
"I'll look out for Whipple," answered Matt confidently. "The chances are, you know, that they're not there. We left them out by the canal, and I don't think they have had time to get here yet, if they walked out to the old quarry."
"We don't want to take any chance, Matt," said Ferral, "of those two swabs getting next to us here. There'd be a pretty kettle of fish if they find us, use their guns, and then make off with the air ship—and Brady."
"While I'm gone," returned Matt, impressed with Ferral's reasoning, "you and Carl will have to be on your guard. You'd better go to the end of the billboard, Carl, and watch the street. You can keep your eye on the alley, Dick. If Pete and Whipple happen to show up before I get back, and you think the Hawk is in any danger, cut loose and sail away—never mind me. You can hover around and pick me up later."
"I don'd like dot, Matt," said Carl. "Meppy I pedder go mit you, hey? You vill be in more tanger as der air ship, I bed you."
"I'm not going to get into any danger, and it's the Hawk we've got to be sure of beyond everything else. You remember how anxious Harris was to keep her out of the hands of any of Brady's gang? Well, we don't want to lose the Hawk, and we don't want to cheat justice by letting Pete and Whipple get hold of her. I don't think there's much chance of the scoundrels showing up, but it's well to be on the safe side. If Mrs. Hooligan is alone there, when I come back I'll have Miss Brady; then we can get a policeman or two and have them lie in wait for Pete and Whipple when they come. I see how, if luck is with us, we can wind this whole matter up, right here. Brady's advice was good in having us come directly here without losing any time. Now, I'm——"
Matt paused. To his ears there came the popping of a motor just getting into action. The noise was followed by a steady hum of cylinders, getting down to work. The hum grew low in the distance and finally died out.
"Dere's a pubble!" muttered Carl.
"In the street on the other side of Hooligan's," said Matt. "It's getting so you can hear automobiles at any time of the day or night."
"But Hooligan's house faces a street where no one lives that's able to own an automobile," spoke up Brady.
"Somebody else who doesn't live on the street is going through."
"The machine had stopped. When we heard it it wasjust starting. Besides, it's a poor street, and no machine would come that way unless the driver blundered into the thoroughfare. I don't like it. Hurry up, King, and find out what's going on, if you can."
Matt lost no more time, but gained the alley, climbed a rickety fence on the other side, and stood in the back yard of the Hooligan home.
The house was a small, one-story affair, shabby even in that faint light, and the back yard was waist high with weeds. It was quite plain that Hooligan's being away in summer was a bad thing for his home place.
Matt approached the house cautiously and went completely around it. There was no light anywhere, and no sounds came from within.
"Mrs. Hooligan has probably gone to bed," he thought. "If I was absolutely sure that Pete and Whipple had not got back, I'd rap on the door and try to get in in that way."
While it seemed reasonable to suppose that the two rascals were still absent from the place, yet Matt did not want to run the risk of trouble by pounding on the door for Mrs. Hooligan.
To get a policeman might have been the best plan, but Matt was none too sure of his ground, inclined though he was to put implicit faith in Brady's information.
"I'll get in, if I can, and look around," he finally concluded. "The Hooligans might have a case against me for house-breaking, but I'll take a chance. Besides, if what Brady says is true, we've got a bigger case against the Hooligans than they can possibly get against me."
Softly he tried the front door. As he had imagined, it was locked. Then he tried the kitchen door, but with no better result. After that he passed completely around the building endeavoring to raise one of the windows. The windows, like the doors, were secured. This seemed strange, inasmuch as it was a warm night and just the time windows should be open to admit the air.
With his pocket knife Matt succeeded in pushing aside the fastening between the upper and lower sash of a window at the side of the house. He listened for a moment to see if his work had been detected by anyone in the building. Hearing nothing to arouse his apprehension, he pushed up the window and climbed into the dark room beyond.
Silence reigned all around him. Taking a match from his pocket, he struck it and surveyed the room.
It was a bedroom. The bed was not disturbed, although the coverlet and pillow bore the imprint of a human form, as though some one had lain down on it for a few minutes' rest.
From a nail in the wall hung an article which at once attracted Matt's attention. It was a small gray shawl, and he at once recalled it as a shawl which he had seen Helen Brady wear.
Here was fresh proof that Hector Brady had told the truth. Undoubtedly the girl had been in that house, and that that was the room set aside for her use. But where was she?
Softly Matt opened a door and stepped through into the kitchen. There was a pile of dirty dishes on a table, and other evidences that the kitchen had been recently used. But there was no one there, and no sounds came to Matt to tell him that there was anyone, apart from himself, in the house. An open door admitted him into what was undoubtedly the main living room. There was some disorder apparent, as though those who had been in the house had left hastily.
A heavy disappointment ran through the young motorist. Helen Brady had been there, but she had been taken away! He was too late.
While he stood in the centre of the living room, a flickering match in his fingers, he heard something that sent his pulses to a faster beat. A faint sound as of stifled breathing came to him. There was one more room he had not examined, and it opened off the one in which he was standing. The choking respiration apparently reached him from this unseen chamber.
What lay beyond the closed door he did not know, but he had gone too far to retreat. If Pete and Whipple were there, and if they were waiting for him——
But that thought did not dismay him. He was thinking of Helen Brady, and hoping against hope that she was still in the house.
He let the match flicker out and, in the darkness, stepped to the door and pushed it open. The breathing was more distinct, but, apart from the person who caused the sound, there was no one else in the room. Matt lighted another match, and started back with an astounded exclamation.
On the floor, almost at his feet, lay Harris! He was bound, wrist and ankle, and a handkerchief gag was twisted between his jaws. The policeman's wide-open eyes were rolling, and he was doing his utmost to talk.
As soon as he had recovered himself somewhat, Matt stepped to a washstand and lighted a lamp that stood there; then, going down on his knees, he proceeded to free the officer of his bonds and the gag.
"Great Scott!" were the officer's first gasping words as he sat up and raised both hands to his head, "how, in the name of all that's good, doyouhappen to be here?"
"I was just going to ask you the same question," answered the bewildered Matt.
"Never had such a big surprise in my life!"
"Nor I, either. I came here looking for Helen Brady, but I thought there was no one at home, and I got through a window. How did you come here?"
"I was brought here by Pete and Whipple," was the astonishing reply.
"Brought here by Pete and Whipple?" echoed Matt. "Why, we left them out by the canal and the old quarry."
"Left them there, eh? What happened to you, Matt? I was scared stiff, on your account, back there in South Chicago. After you left, I called up police headquarters in the city and asked after Dave Glennie—just thought I'd make sure I hadn't sent you into trouble. Glennie himself answered the phone. He hadn't written you any letter and didn't know a thing about that proposed meeting. I got Graydon, another officer, and we hustled off in an automobile. Couldn't find you at the quarry, and while Graydon was looking for you in one direction, and I was nosing around in another, I was keeled over by Whipple. The two scoundrels stole the automobile and brought me here. I don't know what the nation Graydon will think, or—— Ouch, my head! There's a lump on it as big as my fist, and it feels as though it had been hit with a sledge hammer. But it's good for sore eyes to see you, Matt, and to find out that you didn't get into trouble. If you——"
A wild shout came muffled from the distance. It was Carl's voice, and evidently something was going wrong at the air ship.
"That's Carl!" exclaimed Matt. "Come on, Harris. I've got to get out of here and see what's up. I left Carl and Dick with the Hawk in a vacant lot on the other side of the alley."
Without waiting to explain further, Matt whirled and dashed from the room.
THE TROUBLE AT THE AIR SHIP.
When Carl and Ferral went on guard duty, Brady, still bound, was left in the car of the Hawk. From the deep gloom of the billboard, Carl watched both ways—kept his eye on the street for possible signs of Pete and Whipple, and looked occasionally toward the car to make sure that Brady was keeping quiet.
Carl always claimed to have "hunches" when anything was going wrong. He had a good many "hunches" when nothing ever went wrong, but rarely had anything to say when his dismal forebodings failed to make good. However, when his "hunch" struck him shortly before a bit of hard luck, he was sure to brag about it.
One of the shivery feelings which Carl supposed to be a "hunch" had been on him ever since they had started from the balloon house. Instead of finding Dave Glennie, the city detective, by the old quarry, the chums had run into Hector Brady; and, right after that, they had had an encounter with Pete and Whipple, and had got away by a narrow margin.
This amount of trouble ought to have been sufficient for any ordinary "hunch," but it did not satisfy Carl's. The shivery feeling still held him in its grip, and he was looking for something else to strike Matt, and Ferral, and himself.
Ferral, finding everything quiet in the alley, strolled around by the end of the billboard. Carl was so busy looking for trouble that he did not see his chum coming. When he heard his step, close behind him, Carl jumped about ten feet.
"Ach, vat a cholt!" he murmured, recognizing the low laugh that greeted him when he turned around. "You hatn't ought to do dot, Verral," he went on reproachfully. "You come pooty near shcarin' me oudt oof a year's growt'."
"What ails you, old ship?" queried Ferral. "I never saw you in such a taking before. There must be something wrong with your top hamper."
"I don't know abudt dot," said Carl, "aber I bed my life somet'ing pooty bad iss going to habben mit us. I got der feeling in my pones—leetle didicums valkin' all droo me—lettle spookishness feelings like vat I can't tell hop, shkip und chumping oop my shpine. Yah, himmelblitzen, dot's der t'ing vat I feels, und it makes me vant to yell righdt oudt. You efer haf dot, Verral?"
"From your description," chuckled Ferral, "I don't think anything of that kind ever crossed my hawse. It must be an awful feeling, Carl."
"Ach, vorse as dot! I vas a rekular drouple parometer. Schust vatch me und you can alvays tell schust ven hardt luck is going to shdrike Modor Matt und his bards. Now, ve vill ged some more do-nighdt, I tell you dose."
"What sort of trouble will it be?"
"I don'd know dot, aber I bed you Matt is mixed oop in it. I ditn't pelieve dot he ought to haf svallowed all dot talk Prady gif him. Anyvay, you see how Matt dook it down, und here ve are, und dere iss Matt ofer der alley—und der teufel knows vat vill habben pecause oof it, I don'd."
"That old raggie of ours, Carl, generally knows what he's about. It ain't often that he gets fooled."
"Don'd I know dot? He iss der greadest feller dot efer vas, aber der pest oof dem vill make a misblay vonce und oggasionally. Matt ought to haf let me go along mit him. He has peen gone a goot vile now, und he may be in drouble alretty for all dot ve know."
"Matt can keep out of trouble easier than any fellow you ever saw," answered Ferral.
"Sure! Aber I vish dot you vould go ofer py der alley und lisden pehindt der house. See oof you can hear anyt'ing vat lisdens like drouple."
"I'll go you, Carl," said Ferral, "not because I don't think Matt's not able to take care of himself, but just to ease up a bit on your nerves. I never saw a fellow that liked to fight better than you do, and it's main queer you'll let a foreboding of trouble get you on the mat like that."
"Der forepoding iss der whole drouple; oof der fighdt vould come on mitoudt dot, I vouldt be habby. Yah, so. It's der uncerdainty oof vat iss coming vat hurts."
With an amused laugh, Ferral strolled off toward the alley. Carl watched him vanish into the deeper shadows cast by the sheds and other buildings, and then allowed his eyes to swerve toward the car of the air ship.
The Dutch boy had cast an apprehensive look toward the car a score of times without seeing anything. This time, however, he saw something, and that was the figure of a man jumping over the rail. With a wild yell he rushed toward the car. The man, running like a deer, came directly toward him, and Carl planted himself firmly and made ready to use his fists.
As the running form came closer, Carl made it out to be Brady.
The escaping prisoner lurched to one side in order to give Carl a wide berth.
"No, you don'd!" cried Carl, and threw himself in front of Brady. The latter, by a dexterous move, put out a foot and tripped the Dutch boy, sending him heels over head. While Carl was getting up, he saw Brady disappearing around one end of the billboard.
"What's run afoul of you, mate?" demanded Ferral, hurrying to the scene.
"Prady!" answered Carl excitedly. "He has proken loose mit himseluf und run avay!"
Carl at once started on the trail, darting around the end of the billboard and plunging into the street. Once in the thoroughfare, he was puzzled to know which way Brady had gone. The fellow was out of sight and hearing, and all Carl could do was to make a guess and plunge away.
He guessed wrong, and after he had run two blocks he made up his mind that he would go the other way and raced back. In front of the billboard he was stopped by Matt, Ferral and some one else. It was too dark for Carl to see who the third man was.
"Hold up, Carl!" called Matt, grabbing him, "there's no use whaling around like that."
"Prady has got avay!" cried Carl.
"So Dick was telling us. It's hard luck, and I can't understand it."
"Did you have Brady?" demanded the third member of the party.
"Vell, oof it ain'd Harris!" murmured Carl. "Vere dit you come from?"
Harris had no time, just then, for useless talk.
"Yes," said Matt, "we had Brady. He was a prisoner in the air ship, and he loosened his ropes and made a break for his freedom. I'm all at sea and can't make head or tail of it."
"If he's in this town," proceeded Harris, "he can be captured, but we'll have to call on the police authorities here. However, now that Brady's got away, that can wait a few minutes. Tell me all about how you found him."
Matt went over the event of Brady's capture at some length, telling briefly what Brady had told him and how he and his chums had come to bring the Hawk to the vacant lot near Hooligan's.
It was the first chance since Matt had found Harris in the house that the two had had to talk. Harris, as might be supposed, was amazed.
"A queer move for Brady to make," muttered the officer. "A big change must have come over him since he went to the 'pen.' The last thing he said to me, when he started for Joliet, was that he'd get even with Motor Matt if it was the last thing he ever did. Either he's playing some deep game, or else he's experienced a remarkable change of heart."
"It's a deep game he's playing, I guess," said Matt ruefully. "If not, why did he try to get away?"
"Well, he gave you a lot of information, and gave it to you pretty straight. That don't tally very well with his desire to make you trouble. There's something about all this I can't understand."
"Brady was quite a little worked up over that automobile we heard, in front of Hooligan's, mate," put in Ferral, with a sudden thought.
"That was the automobile that brought Graydon and me from South Chicago," explained Harris. "Pete and Whipple ran off with it. They used the machine to bring me to Hooligan's, and then loaded the old woman and the girl into it, got in themselves, and tore away."
"Do you know where they went?" asked Matt.
"No. Whipple told me, just before he left the house, that I could stay where I was and starve to death, for all he cared. And I guess that might have happened if it hadn't been for you, Matt. All this tallies with what Brady told you, and makes the whole affair look as though he was playing on the square."
"But he bolted!" exclaimed Matt. "That goes to show that he had something up his sleeve that we don't know anything about."
The puzzled officer rubbed his bruised head thoughtfully.
"Well, you've got me," he observed finally. "I can't explain it. It will be a good scheme for you boys to get away from here as soon as you can. If Pete and Whipple should show up and lay hands on the Hawk——"
"How can they do that if they went off in the automobile?"
"That's right, too. I'm reasoning like a crazy man, which shows how badly rattled this thing has made me. Suppose you go back to those two trees near the quarry and wait there for me? They say that lightning never strikes twice in the same place, so probably the Hawk will be safer there than anywhere else. While you're there you might keep an eye out for Graydon. I'm going to call on the police authorities here and get men out hunting for Brady. No matter what his game is, he has got to be located. And that automobile has got to be recovered. Graydon and I borrowed it, and I'd hate to have to put up three thousand for it in case it's wrecked or got away with for good. You might go along with me, Carl. I may have use for you."
At such a time the Dutch boy would rather have stayed with Matt and Ferral. However, a word from Matt decided him, and he and the officer hurried off together.
The other two boys, very much disheartened over the way events had fallen out at Hooligan's, unmoored the Hawk and started back toward the quarry. Well beyond the edge of town, Ferral, who was on the lookout in the forward part of the car, saw something to which he called Matt's attention.
The object was a light, almost directly underneath them, waving back and forth as though to attract their attention.
"Hello, down there!" called Matt. "Who are you?"
"Graydon," came the answer. "Is that you, King?"
"Yes."
"Well, come down and take me aboard. I've had a deuce of a time. There's a whole lot been going on that's got me queered."
"He's not the only one that's queered," muttered Ferral as Matt turned the nose of the Hawk earthward.
"Watch sharp, Dick," said Matt. "If there's more than one man there, tell me before it's too late for us to get away. I'm looking for trouble everywhere to-night."
BACK TO THE CANAL.
"There's only one man down there, mate, so far as I can see," announced Ferral presently. "He's waving a bunch of burning grass on the end of a stick."
"Is he an officer?"
"He's got on a policeman's uniform."
"Then I guess it will be safe for us to go down."
The descent continued, and the Hawk hovered above the place where Graydon was standing.
"Don't bring that fire near the air ship, Graydon!" Matt called. "Put it out and then come alongside and we'll help you into the car."
The officer did as directed, and was soon in the air ship with Matt and Ferral. The young motorist started on again toward the canal.
"It was a big surprise to me to see this air ship," said Graydon. "Harris was scared to death thinking something had happened to it, and to you boys. We rushed out here from South Chicago in an automobile, and——"
"We know all about that, Graydon," interposed Matt.
"You do?" cried Graydon. "Who told you?"
"Harris."
"Now where in the blazes did you see Harris? He halted the automobile in the road and asked me to get out and take a look through the old quarry. When I got back to the road again the car was gone, and so was Harris. I've been at sixes and sevens ever since. Why did Harris pull out and leave me?"
"He didn't go of his own free will, Graydon. He wasknocked down and carried in an unconscious condition to a house in La Grange," and Matt briefly explained what had happened.
Graydon's amazement was keen.
"Well, what do you think of that!" he exclaimed. "Here I've been pottering around in the vicinity of that old quarry for two hours, wondering where Harris was, and why he didn't show up. I got the notion that maybe he had seen some one and had given chase, and that perhaps he'd come back. After two hours of waiting and looking, I gave up and started for La Grange. Then I saw the air ship, and now you tell me the automobile has been stolen, and that Harris is scurrying around La Grange, hunting for the machine and for Hector Brady! I suppose I ought to be there with him."
"You might just as well go on with us, Graydon," said Matt. "We're going back to the quarry and Harris is coming there as soon as he finishes his work. You'll probably find him a whole lot quicker if you go with us than if you keep on to La Grange."
"I'm willing enough to go with you," answered Graydon, "because I'm tired out. I've had footwork enough to-night to last me for a week."
"What did you find in the old quarry? Anything?"
"I found a place where somebody had camped—a sort of a den under an overhang of limestone. But there wasn't any one in the quarry."
"That must have been the place where Brady has been hanging out."
"So you captured him and he got away from you! Well, he's about as slippery a crook as you'll find in eleven states."
The two trees by the canal were soon reached, and the Hawk was moored just as she had been the other time. Graydon, after turning over his revolver to Matt, stretched out in the bottom of the car with his rolled-up coat under his head and was quickly snoring.
But there was not to be much sleep for Matt or Ferral that night. It might be, as Harris had said, that "lightning never struck twice in the same place," but the two lads were not taking any chances. Armed with Graydon's revolver they felt equal to any emergency that might confront them, but to close their eyes seemed out of the question. They patrolled the ground in the vicinity of the two trees. This was more as a precaution to keep themselves awake than anything else.
"Too blooming bad we just missed getting Miss Brady away from that outfit," muttered Ferral. "If we'd got to Hooligan's half an hour sooner, we might have rescued the girl."
"We can't tell what would have happened," returned Matt. "Those scoundrels had the automobile—don't forget that—and they didn't stop at Hooligans very long after they got there from the quarry."
"Long enough, anyhow, so that we could have grabbed the machine if we had known about it. Now there's no telling where Pete and Whipple have taken the girl. With that automobile, they may be thirty miles from here, by now."
"It will be easier to find them with the automobile than if they had got away without it. They'll have to keep to the best roads, and Harris can telegraph all over this part of the country. Every automobile will be closely scanned, and if Pete and Whipple get away they'll be a whole lot more clever than I think they are."
"They'll only use the old flugee by night, mate. During the daytime they will hide away somewhere."
"Well, I think the chances are good for the whole party being captured. Helen Brady has done so much for us, though, that I would like to have had a hand in rescuing her."
"I'm tagged onto the same rope, old ship! But I guess it don't make much difference how Helen Brady gets away from Pete and Whipple, just so shedoesget away. That guff about the memorandum in the Lake Station house, and the buried treasure, was a fine yarn for the marines. I'm a Fiji if that Brady hasn't got a keen imagination."
"I'm taking a whole lot of stock in that yarn myself, Dick."
"Oh, my eye! Say, matey, where's your head? Why, Brady just threw that treasure business into the story to make it more catchy."
"I don't think so. We know that Pete and Whipple lured Helen Brady away. Why should they do it if it wasn't to get hold of that buried loot? Brady's explanation is the only reasonable one, and it rings true, to me."
"Why did he get up and dust if he was playing square with us? Didn't he say he'd give himself up if you'd head the Hawk for La Grange and help rescue the girl? Nice way he's got of giving himself up! Why, he tripped anchor the minute he got a chance, knocked Carl over and took a slant for the open. He's got a good offing by now, and I'm betting we never see him again. According to my notion, he stands a better chance of steering clear of the law than do Pete and Whipple. Brady can give any the rest of his old gang cards and spades when it comes to headwork."
"I don't know why it is, Dick," said Matt, "but somehow I've got a lot of confidence in Brady's doing as he said he would. He's hungry to revenge himself on Pete and Whipple for their attempt to steal the buried plunder, and making the girl help them. Brady, if I know him, will go a long way to get even with a man."
"He's tried jolly hard to get even with you, but you've just naturally boxed the compass all around him."
"Well, he's let up on me now."
"Don't be so cocksure of that, my hearty. He let up on you while he could use you and the Hawk. After he accomplishes what he set out to do, if he ever does, there may be a different story."
"I've got a good deal of confidence in him," insisted Matt. "Everything's quiet around here, Dick," he added, "and you might as well turn in and catch your forty winks. I'll stand guard alone. If anything goes wrong—which I haven't the least idea will be the case—you'll hear this gun begin to talk and can flock to the place where you're needed."
"I guess I will do a caulk, mate, for I'm mighty dozy; but I'll only take the nap on one condition."
"What's that?"
"Why, that you go below yourself after I do my own stretch off the land. I'll wake up in time to give you a chance before sunrise."
"I'll agree," laughed Matt, "providing you wake up."
Ferral selected a spot under one of the trees and spread the canvas shelter Matt had stowed in the car for the protection of the air ship. With his coat for a pillow, and the canvas between him and the ground, he was off to the Land of Nod in record time.
From that on, Matt had a lonely and fruitless vigil. Apassenger train went past on the railroad, but that was the only event that came to relieve the monotony of two hours' sentry duty.
At the end of the two hours, when, as Matt judged, it was nearly four o'clock, Ferral stirred himself and arose.
"It's my turn-to, mate," said he. "Give me the revolver and below with you."
"How did you manage to wake up?" queried Matt, as he passed over the weapon.
"Practice, I guess. If a fellow fixes it in his mind that he's going to wake up at a certain time, he can usually do it. Anyhow, that's the case with me. But ease off on your jaw tackle, matey. You're wasting valuable time. We've been through a lot of excitement and you must be tired. Harris and Carl will probably be here before you have the chance to get as much of a snooze as I had."
Matt walked over to the improvised bed under the tree and dropped down. He was hardly flat on his back before he was sound asleep; and it didn't seem to him that he had more than closed his eyes before a yell from Ferral brought him to his feet.
But some time had passed since Matt had laid down. The sun had risen, and it was broad day. There was the roar of an approaching train in Matt's ears, and Ferral was pointing excitedly toward the cars and shouting:
"Look there, mate! What do you think of that? Brady, or I'm a Fiji!"
BRADY RETURNS—WITH HOT NEWS.
"That's right! Blamed if it ain't Brady!"
This from Graydon, who had also been aroused by Ferral's alarm. Crowding close to the two boys, the officer stood gazing with them toward the train.
It was a freight train and was coming from Chicago. Just opposite the old quarry there was a stiff up-grade, and the freight had slackened speed.
Hanging to an iron ladder on the side of one of the box cars, still wearing his stolen uniform, was Hector Brady. He was looking toward the three by the tree, and when he saw he had caught their eye he waved his hand.
"Give me that revolver!" cried Graydon. "I'll guarantee to pick him off that ladder with a single shot."
The policeman reached to take the weapon from Ferral's hand, but Matt caught it away before Graydon could get his hands on it.
"Wait," said Matt coolly. "You don't want to kill Brady, Graydon. He's liable to be useful to us."
"Useful?" scoffed the officer excitedly. "Why, the scoundrel is defying us. He's planning to ride past and——"
"You're wrong," interrupted Matt. "Brady is a good ways from being a fool. If he had wanted to get past us he wouldn't have shown himself like he's doing. Ah! What did I tell you?"
While Matt was talking, Brady had suddenly thrown himself from the train at a point where the ground was almost on a level with the rails. He kept his footing like a cat, faced around and started coolly in the direction of Matt, Carl and Graydon.
"Talk about surprises," mumbled Graydon, "why, that fellow is full of 'em. What's he up to now, I wonder? It don't make any difference what his game is, right here is where he gets into a pair of darbies. Keep that revolver handy, King."
Graydon drew a pair of handcuffs from his pocket. Brady gave them a contemptuous glance as he halted within a few feet of Matt.
"You don't need to put those things on me," said he. "I could have got away if I had wanted to—but I didn't want to. I made a bargain with King, and there's too much at stake for me to break it. That's why I'm here."
"Now that you're here," returned Graydon brusquely, "you'll consider yourself my prisoner."
"Not your prisoner, officer, but King's. He's the one who captured me."
"You got away from King and——"
"No, I didn't. I was on parole." A cool smile wreathed itself about Brady's lips. "That's all it amounted to, King," he added to Matt. "When I slipped away from the air ship, last night, I was intending all the time to come back to you. I've found out something, and if you make the most of my information it must be acted upon at once."
"What have you found out?" asked Matt.
"I've discovered where Pete and Whipple went with Helen."
"Well, strike me lucky!" muttered Ferral. "You're a queer combination of crook and honest man, Brady, douse me if you're not! You come back and give yourself up, when you know it means the 'pen' for you."
"When the warden finds out what I've done," said Brady, "it will mean favorable mention, and several months of good time. They'll forget, at the prison, the way I knocked over the guard and borrowed his uniform. But to come back to our mutton, as the English say, when I heard that automobile in front of Hooligan's, last night, I got the notion that those two members of my old gang had made a getaway. I was about as sure of it as I was that I was lying on the bottom of the air-ship car, with my ropes so loose that all I'd have to do to get clear was to pull out my hands. After you started for the house, King, I watched my chance, freed my hands and then took the rope from my ankles. I couldn't explain where I was going, because you wouldn't believe me, and I knew that Dutch pard of yours, or the sailor, either, wouldn't believe me. So I just hiked out. I had an idea where Pete and Whipple had gone, but I wanted to make sure of it. That's what I've done."
"Where are they?" inquired Matt.
"River Forest."
Then it began to dawn on Matt that the schemers had fallen back on Hooligan.
"They've gone——"
"You're quick at a guess, now I've dropped the hint," interrupted Brady. "Yes, they've gone to the house where Hooligan is acting as caretaker. The family's away for the summer, and Hooligan is able to do about as he pleases there. It's a mansion, and a fine one, but it's a safe bet that the Hooligans won't be taking care of the place another year. The family's abroad, I understand, and they wouldn't feel very easy if they knew what sort of a gang was staying in the place."
"Where's the house?" went on Matt, his excitement growing.
"It's a big, flat-topped mansion close to the river, just below the town. It's owned by a man named Caspar——"
"I know the place!" exclaimed Graydon. "I've seen it a dozen times. It stands at a good distance from anyother house, and is one of the show places of River Forest. You're right, Brady. Mr. Caspar would be mightily put out if he knew how his home was being used."
"Well, that's where Pete and Whipple, two of my old gang, have taken my daughter," went on Brady. "They're there now, and so are the Hooligans. But there's no telling how long they'll be there. It's up to you officers to get busy and make the most of my tip. I want you to capture those two traitors who have been trying to cheat me out of the stuff I stole, and have cached away—and who are trying to make my daughter help them. I want you to rescue the girl. That's your part of the bargain, Matt," he added, turning to the young motorist. "I don't care what's done with the Hooligans, for they don't concern me, but I want to see Pete and Whipple at hard labor alongside of me in the 'pen,' and every time they look at me I want them to remember that it was Brady who put them where they are!"
A look of demoniacal hate convulsed Brady's face. If any one had doubted the genuineness of his desire for revenge upon Pete and Whipple, that look would have settled it.
"We'll get them," averred Graydon, "but first we'll make sure of you."
He stepped forward with the handcuffs, and Brady put out his wrists.
"I'm King's prisoner, not yours, remember," said he, with a hard laugh, "and you'll put it in your report that I helped you capture Pete and Whipple. Now don't lose any more time. Those two men are pretty clever, and you'll have to nab them quick if you want to be sure of them."
By a most opportune circumstance, a two-seated carriage containing Harris and two other officers, and Carl, came whipping along the road at that moment. Carl and Harris stared in open-mouthed amazement when they saw Brady. Then they tumbled from the carriage and raced for the little group by the trees.
"Where did you capture Brady?" demanded Harris.
"He captured himself," replied Matt. "Dropped off a freight train and gave himself up."
"The dickens he did!"
"Vell, donnervetter!" put in Carl. "For vy you knock me ofer to ged avay den, oof you come pack?"
"I had pressing business, Dutchy," said Brady, rattling the gyves, "and didn't want you to interfere with me. You'd better let Graydon take me to La Grange in that carriage, Harris, and then on to South Chicago. I've done about all I can, and you officers are to do the rest. You can go to River Forest in the air ship, along with Matt, and those other two officers can sail along with you. You may need even more help, for Pete and Whipple are strongly entrenched."
"Pete and Whipple?" echoed Harris blankly.
"I've located them, and told Matt and the rest where to go. Caspar's house, in River Forest——"
"You know the house, don't you, Harris?" queried Graydon.
"Like a book," replied Harris. "But tell me more about this before I——"
"You've got to hurry, I tell you!" cried Brady, with angry impatience. "The scoundrels are all there, and my girl is there with them. King can explain to you as you travel along."
"Is that automobile there?" asked Harris.
"I didn't see it, but it must be there if the rest are in the house. Hurry up and get started. Your nearest course is to follow the railroad track. Better land in the timber and surround the house before you let Pete and Whipple know you're anywhere in the neighborhood. If you have to shoot, shoot straight."
There was a deadly menace in the last words which did not escape those who heard them.
"You're a bloodthirsty scoundrel!" muttered Harris.
"My word's as good as my bond, though," laughed Brady cynically, "in a case like this."
"You'd better take him to La Grange, Graydon," said Harris, "and then on to South Chicago. Can you manage the team and Brady, too, as far as the town?"
"Sure," replied Graydon confidently. "Hand me that gun, King."
Matt returned the weapon to its owner, and Harris, Graydon and Brady walked toward the carriage and the two waiting officers. While Harris and Graydon were explaining the work ahead to the men in the carriage, Matt and his chums hurried to the air ship and began making the craft ready for the task before her.
There was still plenty of gasoline in the receptacle, but Matt, out of his reserve supply, filled the tank full up.
By the time Harris and the other two officers reached the air ship, everything was in readiness. The La Grange men were somewhat fearful of trusting their lives in the craft, but Harris laughed away their fears and they took the places in the car to which Matt assigned them. The burden now placed upon the Hawk was about as great as she could carry. The car was somewhat crowded, but Matt succeeded in making a neat ascension, and at one hundred feet from the ground he turned the craft to an even keel and steered her along a line parallel with the railroad track.
"First time I ever went after a couple o' thieves in an air ship," observed Burton, one of the La Grange men.
"And it'll be the last time, for me," added Sanders, the other one, with a frightened gasp as the car careened. "The ground is good enough for Sanders, any old day."
THE MANSION ON THE RIVER.
The Hawk, flying low over a populous country, attracted a good deal of attention. People—men, women and children—came out of their houses to stare and wonder. Probably most of them had read, in their daily papers, of the exploits of Motor Matt and his air ship, so the dirigible gas bag did not take them wholly by surprise. Some of those on the ground started to follow the craft, looking up and shouting as they ran.
"We don't want a gang of curious people trailing us clear to River Forest," growled Harris. "Speed her up, Matt."
"This is fast enough for me," observed Sanders. "I guess I'd be a lot easier in my mind, too, if you'd keep her close enough to the ground so I could tumble out if anything slips a cog."
"No cog ever slips," replied Harris, "with King in charge of the engine. He knows what he's doing, every time and all the time."
"Vell, you bed my life!" cried Carl. "He iss my bard, too, und I mighdt schust as vell haf peen mit him undder Hawk, Harris, as running aroundt mit you in La Grange. Vat ve dit vasn't nodding. Ve hat to come pack py Modor Matt to findt oudt vat vas going on."
"No dream about that, either," said Harris grimly. "We did a lot of telegraphing, in La Grange, but even that was lost time if Brady has given us a proper steer."
Matt had thrown more power into the propeller. In spite of her heavy load the Hawk was making about twenty miles an hour. The wind was behind her, what little there was, and that helped.
"Now that we're going in good shape, Matt," said Harris, "tell me what Brady said."
"Dick will do that, Harris," answered Matt. "I want to give my whole attention to the engine."
Ferral gave the three officers and Carl the gist of Brady's information.
"First time on record, I guess," commented Burton, "that a crook like Brady ever walked right back into the 'pen.'"
"It's a cinch that he wouldn't have walked back, either," observed Harris, "if he hadn't been so hungry to land Pete and Whipple in the same place. We're coming close to River Forest now, Matt," the officer added, taking their bearings with a critical eye, "and we've got to be careful not to arouse the curiosity of the townspeople. That line of timber, over there, marks the course of the river. Caspar's house is about a mile to the right. You'd better turn from the railroad and strike across country. And you'd better keep as low as you can, so the woods will screen our approach to the house. If Whipple, or Pete, should see us, they might try to clear out in that automobile."
The turn at right angles to their course carried the Hawk across farming land and toward a point of the woods near which, Harris stated, the Caspar mansion was located. In order to keep the timber between the air ship and the house, Matt dropped so low that the bottom of the car only safely cleared the fences.
"Blamed if you can't do about whatever you want to with this machine!" exclaimed Burton enthusiastically. "I've read about the Hawk, and about Jerrold's air ship, the Eagle, but I hadn't no idee they'd been figured down to such a fine point."
"The time is coming," said Matt, "when people will own air ships just as they own automobiles now."
"Not me," averred Sanders. "The time'll never come when I trust my neck to a few cubic feet of gas and a motor. The solid ground'll do me for quite a spell yet."
"Better come down at the edge of the timber, Matt," counseled Harris, indicating a favorable spot. "There's a place where you can moor her to a fence post on one side and to a telephone pole on the other. You'll have to look out for the wires."
"You can't pass under 'em!" cried Sanders, in trepidation.
"Then we'll jump over them," said Matt coolly, and the slant he gave the car in making the "jump" caused all hands to hang on for dear life to keep from being spilled out.
The manœuvre, however, was effected in the neatest kind of style, the Hawk skimming over the topmost wire, and changing her course during the descent so that, when Matt brought her to an even keel on the surface of the ground, she was parallel with the telephone line and just between the farm fence and one of the poles.
Sanders scrambled out with an exclamation of thankfulness.
"If we go back with any prisoners," said he, "we'll not travel by air ship."
"Not bythisair ship, anyhow, Mr. Sanders," laughed Matt, "for her passenger capacity is limited."
Harris helped put the mooring ropes in place.
"It won't do to leave the car unguarded, Matt," said he, when the air ship was safely fastened. "I don't think there's anything to be feared from those in the house, for we're going to keep them busy, but some one might happen along and get to tampering with the machinery."
"I'll leave Ferral and Carl to look after the craft," returned Matt. "As for me, though, I want to go along with you and see if everything at the house is as we expect to find it. If Helen Brady is going to be rescued, I want to have a share in the work."
"Come along, then," said Harris, starting off through the woods.
"Oof you findt anyvone vat iss spoiling for a fighdt," Carl called after them, "send him dis vay, oof you blease. I t'ink I vas spoiling for vone meinseluf."
"Never mind him, mates," laughed Ferral; "just let him spoil. Carl's too full of fight for his own good, anyhow."
Only a short stretch of timber lay between the advancing party and the house. When they came upon the premises, they approached from the rear.
The house was large and had an old-fashioned mansard roof. The main part of the structure was three stories in height. There was an addition at the back that terminated at the lower part of the second story. The grounds were extensive, and entirely surrounded by an iron fence. A large stable filled in the back part of the yard.
Most of the windows of the house were boarded up, although here and there was one that had not been closed. There was no barricade at the rear door.
"Post yourself at the kitchen door, Sanders," said Harris, "and watch the rear of the house and give some attention to the side. I'll place Burton at a front corner, so he can watch the other side and the front. Matt isn't armed, so he can come with me while I try to rout out the gang, but keeping well behind and looking out for trouble."
Sanders placed himself at the kitchen door, revolver in hand, and the other three moved off around the house to the front. Burton, as already indicated by Harris, was placed at a front corner, where he could not only command the entrance but the side Sanders had not been instructed to look after.
"The lower windows are all boarded up on the first floor, so I guess there won't be any getaways through them," commented Harris. "About the only points it is absolutely necessary to watch are the doors at front and rear. Neither of those has been boarded over."
Harris, as he finished, started up the broad front steps. When he was halfway up, the front door suddenly opened and a tall man showed himself. The man was neither Pete nor Whipple, although his face slightly resembled Pete's. The moment the man saw Harris, climbing upward with his drawn revolver, he started back. The policeman made a dash upward, but the door was slammed in his face.
"They know what we want," muttered Harris, "and it looks like they were going to fight. That fellow musthave been Hooligan. Well, I don't want to smash in Mr. Caspar's front door, so we'll try persuasion. We've got the rascals bottled up, and it won't do them any good to resist. If——"
The crack of a revolver rang out, and a whiff of smoke eddied upward from one of the barricaded front windows. The bullet whistled uncomfortably close to Harris' head, and even Matt heard the sing of it, although it must have missed him by a foot or more.
"Down, Matt!" shouted Harris, throwing himself over the rail at the side of the steps and dropping under the protection of the foundation of the veranda. "Get into safer quarters, my lad," he went on, as the young motorist landed beside him. "The rascals have loopholes in those window barricades. I wonder what they hope to gain by such work?"
"Hello, you!" called an angry voice, muffled in tone, from behind the boards where the shot had been fired.
"Hello, yourself!" shouted Harris, peering out from his place of concealment. "What do you mean by firing at us?"
"Ye're trespassin' on Mr. Caspar's ground," went on the man in the house, "an' I'm here to protect the property. Clear out!"
"We're officers of the law," cried Harris, "and you're giving refuge to a couple of fugitives from justice. Is your name Hooligan?"
"What of it?" came the defiant response.
"Well, if you are," proceeded Harris, "I'll give you just five minutes to open that front door and shove your brother, Pete, and his pal, Whipple, out onto the veranda. After we have taken care of them, we'll have you send the girl. I guess you know what we want. The quicker you obey me, Hooligan, the better it will be for you."
"I know my business," continued the angry voice, "an' if ye don't git off these grounds ye'll never live to git off."
"That's a game two can play at, Hooligan," answered Harris coolly. "We're going to get the people we've come for if we have to batter in the door."
"Yes, ye will!" whooped another voice, which Matt plainly recognized as Whipple's. "Ye'll never git us alive."
"That's Whipple, Harris," whispered Matt.
"Glad to know you're there, Whipple," shouted Harris grimly. "Now we know we're on the right track. You and Pete have got five minutes to come out and give yourselves up."
"Ye got a picter of us comin' out!" taunted the voice. "We can shoot—ye'll find that out—but, if ye press us too close, it's goin' to be worse for the girl. If ye'll clear out an' let us go, we'll let her go; if ye won't clear out, then it'll be a case o' up-sticks with Helen Brady."
Matt's heart sank like lead. The scoundrels had the girl with them, and they were seeking to make her safety their protection. How far would they carry their murderous threats? The young motorist's blood ran cold as he thought of Helen Brady's danger.