[A]See No. 13 of theMotor Stories, "Motor Matt's Queer Find; or, The Secret of the Iron Chest."
[A]See No. 13 of theMotor Stories, "Motor Matt's Queer Find; or, The Secret of the Iron Chest."
"Yes, cap'n," said the mate, "I know all that."
"Well, here's something you don't know, Cassidy. I have had those diamonds with me, here under my pillow, all the time I've been sick."
"Great guns!"
"And," finished Townsend exultantly, "I have just given them to Motor Matt to deliver to the woman. When I am well, I will go to her and get my share of them, as well as the share that is coming to Motor Matt and his friends."
Cassidy was amazed. Before he could speak, however, another rap fell on the door—a nervous and excited summons, as could be told by the sound, alone.
"What now, I wonder?" fretted the sick man.
Cassidy opened the door and found Mrs. Thomas.
"Oh, Mr. Cassidy," cried the landlady, "some one has just come to the back door and he says he is Motor Matt—a nice-looking, well-dressed young fellow who——"
"What?" cried Townsend hoarsely, trying to get out of bed.
"Softly, cap'n, softly!" warned Cassidy, leaping to the bed and pushing Townsend back. "Mebby there's nothing wrong. Anyhow, your cue is to take it easy. Tell this other Motor Matt to come right up, Mrs. Thomas," he added.
MOTOR MATT'S PROMISE.
Townsend had a bad two minutes waiting for Mrs. Thomas to get downstairs and for Matt to come up. Finally, when the young motorist entered the room, he was astounded by what he saw.
Cassidy was half holding, half supporting Townsend on the bed, and Townsend, his face like chalk and his eyes staring glassily, was gazing at the newcomer.
"What's the matter?" queried Matt. "What's wrong, Cassidy?"
Cassidy shook his head. Before he could answer, Townsend burst out:
"Were you here a few minutes ago, Matt? Did you have on other clothes, and did I give you the diamonds? For heaven's sake, tell me!"
"Easy, cap'n," warned Cassidy.
"No," replied Matt, instantly divining that something had happened to the diamonds. "I was told not to come until midnight, but I was anxious, and even now I am ahead of time. Why?"
He approached the bed hurriedly, but Townsend had sunk limply back, with a hollow groan.
"There was a fellow here who looked like you in the face, Matt, and who said he was you. Townsend gave him the bag of diamonds," said Cassidy.
Motor Matt reeled backward. He could think of but two men, at that moment, and they were Jurgens and Whistler. And he blamed himself. He should not have listened to Carl and Dick, but should have posted at once to Prytania Street and told Townsend how the letter had been delivered to some one else through a mistake.
"Couldn't you tell that the fellow wasn't me, Cassidy?" Matt demanded. "You had a close look at him. He may havelookedlike me, but did he act, or talk, as I do? Great spark plugs! In a case like that you ought to have been more than sure."
"I didn't know the cap'n was going to hand the diamonds over," returned Cassidy. "The cap'n only just told me. I had my suspicions, but I couldn't just see how the fellow would be here, accordin' to instructions, if he wasn't you. And he sure looked like you, although his talk and his actions were a trifle off. Oh, thunder, what a go!"
"How was he dressed?" demanded Matt. "Quick—tell me as much as you can about him."
"Slouch hat, gray sweater, dark corduroy trousers; slangy, devil-may-care sort of chap. Not you, in that way, by a jugful."
"And he left here——"
"Twenty minutes ago."
Matt whirled and dashed from the room. At the foot of the stairs he found the excited landlady.
"Have you a telephone in the house?" he asked.
"This way," answered Mrs. Thomas, appreciating the fact that something important was urging Matt on and that it was a time for action and not words.
The telephone was in the rear hall and Matt had soon rung up the police department, given a description of the youth, and of Jurgens, Whistler, and Bangs, and told as much of what had happened as it was necessary for the officers to know in order to make a quick and effective search. In a few minutes he was back in Townsend's room.
"The police," said Matt, "will get right to work; and as soon as I am through talking here I will get to work myself. Don't be discouraged, Mr. Townsend. That young fellow may have got the diamonds, but he'll find it hard to get away with them."
"I don't know," murmured Townsend, tossing his hands, "but it seems to me as though everything connected with that Man from Cape Town and his iron chest is fated to make me trouble. Jurgens and Whistler must be back of this!"
"Undoubtedly."
"But how did they know I was going to send the diamonds to the woman in St. Charles Avenue to-night? Where did they get hold of a young fellow who looks so astonishingly like you to help them in their villainous schemes?"
"I can tell you something about that, in a minute. What did that fellow say when he came here?"
"He came in at the front gate, a little after eleven, and he said he had disguised himself so that he could escape the vigilance of possible spies. He also said that he had come early, as the cars did not run, at this time of night, so he could get here at sharp twelve. Oh, he had a clever story! I'll warrant you that Jurgens fixed that part of it for him."
"You wanted me to take the diamonds to the daughter of the Man from Cape Town?" asked Matt.
"Why, didn't you know that?" demanded Townsend. "Didn't you read my letter?"
"There's the point, Townsend. I did not see your letter. If I had known what you wanted me to do, I shouldhave come here early in the evening. But I didn't. All I knew was that the work was important."
"But the letter, Matt, the letter! I told everything in that. I did not care to trust the information with Carl or Dick, or even with Cassidy. This house has been watched for two days by some fellow who was skulking on the other side of the street. I was afraid—the whole thing had got on my nerves. The worst thing I ever did," Townsend added in bitter self-reproach, "was to let Jurgens, Whistler, and Bangs go when I had them where the law could take care of them."
"This young fellow, who appears to be my double and who has turned up so unfortunately in New Orleans," said Matt, "looks so much like me that he deceived even Carl and Dick. While they were on the way back to the dock, with your letter, they saw the fellow, and gave the letter to him."
Townsend groaned despairingly.
"Never again," said he, "will I put such important matters in black and white. But I thought I could trust Carl and Dick to deliver the letter safely to you."
"You can hardly blame them for making the mistake, Townsend," went on Matt, "when even you and Cassidy were fooled."
"It's the most astonishing thing I ever heard of!" muttered Townsend. "How two young fellows could look so much alike, and how your double should happen around at just the right time to play havoc with my carefully worked-out plan. But it's fate. There's something about those diamonds that brings ill luck. It seems to have been destined, from the start, that they were never to be delivered to this New Orleans woman."
"No matter what happens, Townsend," said Matt, "your conscience is clear. The iron chest has caused you expense, time and trouble, and you have tried faithfully to do what this mysterious Man from Cape Town asked of you. Don't take it so hard."
"I am culpable," declared Townsend, "in that I did not put Jurgens and Whistler where they could never trouble me again, that time I had it in my power. I am in duty bound to get back those stones. I can't let those scoundrels get away with them."
"Leave it to the police, cap'n," spoke up Cassidy. "You're a sick man, and that's all you can do. Leave it to the police, and the chances are that they will capture the gang, for the trail is hot; but, if they don't capture Jurgens, Whistler, and that young grafter and recover the diamonds, it's just as Matt says; you haven't any cause to feel cut up over it."
"But Iwillfeel cut up over it," insisted Townsend, with all the distorted reasoning of a sick man. "Matt, I want you to promise me something. If you'll give the promise, I'll feel fairly contented and will abide the result with patience. Your promise, my boy, will help me to get well."
"What is it?" asked Matt.
"I don't remember that you ever failed in anything you have undertaken—and I've got the most of your history ever since you left Arizona. What I want you to promise is this, that you'll keep after Jurgens, Whistler and that double of yoursuntil you recover the diamonds."
"But——"
"The police won't be able to do it—I'm as sure of that as I am that I am lying here in this bed this minute. While everything connected with that iron chest and its contents seemed to condemn me to a run of hard luck, it has always been you and your good fortune that stepped in, at the last minute, and saved the day. I am positive that you can save the day now. There is that Obeah woman, the voodoo priestess who aided you so strangely and so well the other time. Go to her. She is a friend of yours. Ask her to help you."
"I don't think——"
"You must promise me, Matt!" insisted Townsend vehemently. "I tell you I am to blame for the loss of the diamonds, for I should have had Jurgens, Whistler, and Bangs sent to jail when it was in my power to do so. Will you promise?"
Cassidy gave Matt a significant look. It asked Matt, for the sake of Townsend's comfort and health, to agree to a task whose accomplishment would be difficult and perhaps impossible.
"Very well," said Matt, quietly stepping to the bedside and taking Townsend's hand in a firm pressure, "I promise."
"That you will keep after the thieves until you finally recover the diamonds?"
"Yes."
"Then I shall rest content," said Townsend. "Your good luck, I know, will go with you. Go and find the voodoo woman. Give me some medicine, Cassidy, for I'm about played out."
Townsend sank back on his pillow and closed his eyes.
Matt looked at him, at the haggard, careworn expression on his face, at the gray hair sweeping his temples, and, for the first time, realized what the difficulties and perils connected with that mysterious iron chest had meant to Archibald Townsend. As he turned softly away and moved toward the door, his heart was steeled with resolution to do his utmost—and to win!
He nodded to Cassidy, softly opened the door, and left the room.
DASHINGTON DASHED.
Joe Dashington was in fine feather as he left the house with the bag of diamonds. A combination of circumstances had enabled him to make a rich haul, and to make it with an ease and celerity that surprised him.
He half expected that some one would overhaul him and stop him before he got out of the house, but in this he was happily disappointed. Reaching the sidewalk, he passed through the gate and was confronted by Whistler.
Dashington had been told, whether successful or not in getting the diamonds, to walk to the first cross street south, where he would find Jurgens, Whistler, and Bangs waiting for him. But the three men feared Dashington might, if he managed to secure the diamonds, go north instead of south, with the intention of keeping the "sparks" for himself. For this reason, Whistler was sent to meet him as he came out of the yard.
"Did you get 'em?" whispered Whistler.
"Did I?" exulted Dashington; "well, did I not! Oh, it was a hot touch, but I got away with it with ground to spare. I'm the fly boy, Whistler, and none of your common dubs. But let's wabble right along. The sick Indian has got a hefty gazabu for a right bower, and if the right bower was played on us there'd be doings and we might get queered."
"Hand me the bag, Dash," said Whistler, as they hurried southward along the walk.
"Don't shove," answered Dashington. "It's tucked away in my kimono and I'm so busy with the getaway I don't want to cough up until we're with the rest of the push. Honest, though, I'm no understudy for a low card, am I?"
"You're the goods, Dash, and no mistake. Don't drop that bag out of your sweater while we're hurrying."
"Nay, Frances, I couldn't be so absent-minded. When I get my hooks onto a good thing I'm worse than the Terrible Turk with a strangle hold."
"What did Townsend say?"
"He wanted me to come in at the rear; said some one had been piping off the house from across the street. Who was that?"
Whistler chuckled.
"Sometimes Bangs," he answered, "and sometimes a fellow Bangs got to spell him."
"Then, Bangs and the other must have spelled it like a couple of farmers. Townsend was wise."
"Motor Matt hadn't been there?"
"Not so you could notice."
"That was the point that worried me. If he had had an idea what that letter contained, or that Jurgens and I were mixed up with it, he'd have been with Townsend hours ago, and the whole game would have been queered."
"And your Uncle Joe pinched. That gives me a good, swift notion that I've taken some chances and ought to have a pretty square look-in on the divvy. How much do I pull down?"
"You'll pull down a-plenty, Dash."
"Put it in cold figures. You see, I don't like these glittering generalities."
"We can't any of us tell how much we get till we see how much there is."
"It ought to be ten thou, at least. Townsend said there were enough sparks in the bag to make Tiffany's exhibit look like a piker. Ten thou will buy me an interest in a racing stable, and I'm dippy about the ponies. It's an even-money break that——"
"Stow it! Here we are at the car."
At that moment, Whistler and Dashington came out on the cross street. An automobile was drawn up at the curb, and two men could be seen, one on the front seat and one in the tonneau. The man behind proved to be Bangs, and the man at the wheel was Jurgens. Both were in their shirt sleeves, and Bangs' coat was lying over the side of the car.
"Oh, ho!" gurgled Dashington, "so it's a benzine buggy for ours, eh? It's a fancy pass and ought to snatch us away before the police get busy."
"How did you make out, Dashington?" asked Jurgens, in his anxiety getting up and leaning over the side of the car.
"Easy money," answered the youth. "I had my brace right with me, and the way I took that high jump calls for a hand."
"You got the diamonds?"
"Ain't I telling you?"
"Take them, Whistler. Then both of you pile in and we'll be going—and we'll have to go hard and fast, at that."
Dashington dug the bag out from under his sweater.
"You're all jerry to this," said he, as he reached out the bag to Whistler, "that I come in for a big bunch of the dazzlers, and that——"
"There's one of your dazzlers, my gay buck!"
Whistler, taking the bag in his left hand, struck out with his right. Dashington, the breath jolted out of him, staggered back.
"And there's another!"
Whistler struck again with all his savage strength. This time Dashington dropped silently to his knees and fell on his back, with his head over the curb.
"I reckon that will do him," laughed Jurgens. "Jump in, Whistler. We'll be out of town before he gets back his wits, and it's dollars to dimes he won't say a word to the police."
Whistler laughed grimly as he pulled the crank and then sprang into the automobile. In another moment the machine had chugged away.
Perhaps it was five minutes before Dashington groaned, opened his eyes and sat up. The stillness of the night was all around him.
"Blanked!" he muttered, lifting both hands to his aching head. "They knocked me a twister and got away on the high speed. Oh, what a frost! It's a hot night, but I'm a dub if I haven't got chilblains. Yes, little one, you played the game like a farmer—the genuine, blown-in-the-bottle Easy Mark. Dashed again. I ought to be used to the double-cross by now, it's been dumped onto me so many times. Ouch, my head! I'd like to pull off the block and play football with it—that's about all it's good for."
Dashington got up and leaned against a China ball tree.
"Feel like I'd been smoking some new brand of dope," he went on, waiting for the darkened landscape to stop whirling and stay where it belonged. "This game of graft don't pay," he went on moodily. "I'm always the monk that pulls the hot nuts out of the fire for some other strong-arm guy, and I'm getting weary on the job. What funny noises a fellow hears after a jolt like that!"
Still leaning against the tree, Dashington began rubbing his head.
"Why not cut out the crooked work and be decent?" he mumbled thoughtfully. "I've trotted heats with dips, second-story men, and sand-bag experts, and every last one of 'em has blanked me when it came to the showdown. Why not break away from the swift game and take a job at five per, with three honest square meals and a place to bunk? When you turn the X-rays on this grafting game, there's nothing in it."
He left the tree and stepped from the curb to pick up a dark object on the ground. He thought it was his hat, but it turned out to be a coat.
"Am I daffy," he murmured, "or is this the coat I saw swinging over the side of the chug-chug wagon? It's the sack that belongs to neighbor Bangs, and if there's a hundred or so in the pockets, I'm the boy to put it where it will do the most good."
Picking up his hat, which lay a little distance from where the coat had dropped, he hurried off toward the nearest street lamp. Then, with deft fingers, he began searching the coat pockets.
He found some cigars and a memorandum book; also a short-barreled, loaded revolver. But there was no money.
"That's the way luck handles me," he muttered angrily, casting the coat aside. "Cigars never did agree with me, and I've got as much use for the gun as I have for thenotebook. But, say! Maybe I can leave the pepper box with some gent at the sign of the three balls."
He dropped the revolver into his pocket; then, quite casually, he opened the memorandum book and began turning the leaves. The street light was wavering and none too good, but he drew closer to it and ran his eyes over the pages.
Then, suddenly, he chanced upon something that caused him to draw in a long breath.
"Oh, sister!" he exclaimed, drumming his knuckles delightedly against his forehead. "If here ain't a chance to even up with that sure-thing crowd, I'm a geezer. If I can't go with them and take my share of the loot, I can go against them and help separate them from the lot of it. 'Bayou Yamousa!' That ought to be easily found. Bayou Yamousa for mine, and I'm on the level from this on. That's straight, and no stringin'. Bangs will throw a fit when he finds out he's lost his coat, but it's a lead pipe he won't come back for it."
Then, as Dashington dropped the memorandum book into his pocket, he had another thought.
The police! For what he had done that night, even though he had failed to benefit by it, there was a chance of his getting caught and "doing time."
How long would it be before Motor Matt reached the house in Prytania Street? And how long after that before the law would be called in to do what it could toward overhauling the thieves and recovering the diamonds?
"If I stand to win in this little game of one call three," he muttered, "I've got to duck good and hard. If I'm pinched now, it means an easy getaway for Jurgens, Whistler, and Bangs. But I'm not going to be run in. I guess I'm keen enough to dodge the law while hunting for Bayou Yamousa and giving those pinheads a taste of their own dope. Me for the tall and uncut—and here goes."
Dashington took a swift look around. There were as yet no signs of threatening peril, but he knew danger was close on him for all that. The river lay at one end of the street, and as soon as he had got his bearings he made for it.
A HARD STARTER.
Hunting four thieves as shrewd as were Jurgens, Whistler, Bangs, and the young fellow who had helped them, looked like a tremendous order to Motor Matt. And recovering the diamonds made the prospect seem even more discouraging.
Matt, however, was on his mettle. He had given his promise, perhaps rashly, to Townsend, and Townsend, as well as every one else, knew that Motor Matt's word was as good as his bond.
He had promised to recover the diamonds!
Townsend's mention of the Obeah woman had had not a little to do with the promise.
The woman's name was Yamousa, and she lived in a hut near a bayou of the same name. Matt knew the place well, for he and his chums had stopped there, a few days before, had been of some service to Yamousa, and had been repaid by her in a way that had caused, and was still causing, them any amount of wonder.
The voodoo priestess apparently possessed powers of divination that were inexplicable. Her arts may have been wholly trickery, but, if so, a wonderful chain of coincidences had lent a cast of truth to her magic.
Matt had no belief in the supernatural, and his common sense was constantly struggling against the results of Yamousa's occult powers, as he and his friends had witnessed them. As a last resort, it might be possible to consult Yamousa with some show of success in this matter of the stolen gems.
This, at least, was what Matt had in mind when he left Townsend. The authorities, knowing the ins and outs of the Crescent City so well, could do infinitely more in the town than could Matt and his friends.
Without loss of time, Matt returned to the small hotel near Stuyvesant Dock, where he, Dick, and Carl had taken up their quarters. Dick and Carl were in their room, dressed and waiting to hear what Matt had to say.
Quickly as he could, the young motorist set forth the amazing events of the night. The sailor and the Dutch boy were greatly wrought up.
"Carl and I are loaded to the marks with all the blame," scowled Dick.
"Ve made some popples," wailed Carl, "und dey vas vat dit der pitzness."
"What's the use of doubles, anyhow?" went on Dick.
"Vyefer do two people look so mooch alike in dis vorlt?" added Carl. "I vonder oof I haf a touple? Oof I haf, he must be a bicture, aber I hope he don'd shove indo anyt'ing vat habbens mit me."
"You boys made only a natural mistake," said Matt. "That levee policeman was fooled, Cassidy was deceived, and so was Townsend. How can you blame yourselves when every one else took this double of mine just as you did?"
"You've got a way, mate," observed Dick gratefully, "of tacking about and trimming your sails to any breeze that blows in order to make things easier for your friends; but Carl and I know that we're responsible for the whole blessed business."
"Well, if you're bound to have it so, let it go at that. I've promised Townsend to hunt the thieves until I recover the diamonds. That means the work of our lives, for it's a promise I intend to live up to."
"Py shinks," cried Carl, "you can gount on me to do all vat I can to helup."
"Aye, old ship," said Dick, "and me. Just show us where to begin and we'll tear into the work like a couple of navvies. It's the best we can do to square ourselves."
"Led us dry und be as jeerful as ve can," suggested Carl. "Dot iss pedder dan to be gloomed oop so mooch, hey?"
"You've raised the point that bothers me, Dick," said Matt, "and that is, where to begin. The police are already at work in New Orleans, but I haven't any idea that they'll be successful. We're dealing with clever men, and mustn't forget that for a minute. Ever since the diamonds were found, Jurgens and Whistler seem to have been watching Townsend. They had a spy across the street keeping an eye on the house where he is lying ill."
"Townsend missed it by not having that outfit jugged when he was able. If every man jack of them had been sent to the brig, we wouldn't be up against this proposition now."
"No use crying over spilt milk," returned Matt. "Townsend realizes that he failed to do what he should have done, and it's that that worries him now. We'll takethings as we find them and forge ahead. There's one point we can look up, although it isn't very promising."
"Name it, mate."
"My double was taken from the levee in a carriage. It may have been one of Jurgens' gang who helped him out of his trouble."
"The fellow didn't look like any of the gang."
"There may be some new members we don't know anything about. If we can find the man who drove the carriage, we could discover where he took that young fellow."
"What good would that do? Jurgens and his outfit wouldn't come back to that place. I'll lay a sov the lot of them tripped anchor and bore away the minute the stones came into their hands."
"That's my idea, Dick. I told you the clue wasn't very promising, but it appears to be the only one we have. Townsend, however, suggested something which had also occurred to me."
"Vat it iss?" queried Carl. "I don'd vas mooch oof a handt to dig oop clues, aber I bed you I can tell a goot clue ven I come face to face mit it. Shpeak it oudt, Matt."
"Why not bear away in the air ship to Bayou Yamousa?"
Carl began to shiver.
"Nod dere! Ach, py shinks, don'd have somet'ing to do mit dot olt shpook laty again."
Carl's superstitious fears did not weigh very heavily with Matt and Dick. The latter slapped his hands.
"First chop!" he cried. "It's the last shot in the locker, and who knows but that it may be just the thing for us to do? I'm for beginning the trip to Bayou Yamousa now. It's a still night, mates, and we could get theHawkoff the dock without any trouble. She's ripe and ready for the flight of her life!"
"It's a still night, that's true, Dick," answered Matt, "but you forget that we have got to have daylight for finding the bayou. We can't locate it in the dark."
"But we're losing time," grumbled Dick, "and we haven't any to throw at the birds."
"The more haste, the less speed," counseled Matt. "Better to go slow and be sure of what we're doing, Dick, than to run wild and get tangled up in our bearings. We'd probably lose more time in the end if we did that."
"But Jurgens and his gang are getting farther and farther away all the time."
"They'll go into hiding somewhere, if I'm any prophet, until the affair blows over a little. If Yamousa can tell us where they are——"
"Don'd try dot," put in Carl earnestly. "She vill vork a hogus-pogus und meppy ged all oof us indo drouple."
"We're going to pay Yamousa a visit, Carl," said Matt firmly. "There's nothing else we can do. The police will be able to handle this end of the work much better than we could. Go to bed, both of you. I'm going over to police headquarters and tell the chief about the carriage that took the man and the young fellow away from the levee. As soon as I do that, I'll come back and pull covers myself. In the morning we'll have breakfast, and then we'll make a start for the bayou."
As usual, Matt's ideas prevailed. Dick and Carl went to bed, Matt had a talk with the city authorities and gave as much further information as he thought would help them, and then returned to the hotel and turned in.
By seven in the morning they were up and eating their breakfast. Breakfast over, Matt sent Carl to the post office for any mail that might be there—he was constantly receiving letters from various parts of the country relative to theHawk—and he and Dick started for Stuyvesant Dock to make ready for the flight south and east.
On the way to the dock, Matt bought a morning paper. There was a brief and garbled account of the robbery, but it had little interest for the boys, although they had bought the paper in order to see what it had to say about the diamonds.
But there was a paragraph of overwhelming interest to the lads tucked away in one corner of the first page. Matt's eye caught the paragraph casually, then he gasped and his consternation grew, as he read:
"NOTED VOODOO WOMAN DEAD."From Chef Menteur, in the Parish of Orleans, comes news of the death of a famous character in those parts known as Yamousa, priestess of the voodoos. Years ago she lived in New Orleans, numbering her followers by hundreds, but was driven away by the police and found refuge on Bayou Yamousa. Those with any faith in the black arts credited the aged negress with being an adept in her particular line, but others with more common sense and less superstition considered her a grafter of remarkable ability. Her death, it is supposed, was the result of natural causes."
"NOTED VOODOO WOMAN DEAD.
"From Chef Menteur, in the Parish of Orleans, comes news of the death of a famous character in those parts known as Yamousa, priestess of the voodoos. Years ago she lived in New Orleans, numbering her followers by hundreds, but was driven away by the police and found refuge on Bayou Yamousa. Those with any faith in the black arts credited the aged negress with being an adept in her particular line, but others with more common sense and less superstition considered her a grafter of remarkable ability. Her death, it is supposed, was the result of natural causes."
Here was a blow, and no mistake. Matt, greatly dejected, read the paragraph to Dick.
"Keelhaul me!" exclaimed Dick. "We're up in the air now for fair. Your luck seems to have taken a turn for the worse, Matt. What are we going to do? The last prop has been knocked out from under us."
The boys reached the dock and seated themselves moodily on a cotton bale not far from theHawk.
Matt had not the remotest idea what they were to do. Yamousa had been their last hope, and a strange fatality had suddenly snatched it away from them.
"The outlook is getting more and more dubious," said Matt. "Yamousa might not have been able to help us, but there was a chance that she could. Now the chance, slim enough at best, is gone. It's a lucky thing, though, that I bought the paper and found that notice. If I hadn't, we might have been wasting time, off in the southeast. If——"
"Ledders! ledders. Dree oof dem!"
Carl, at that moment, came ambling across the dock, dodging the boxes and bales and hurrying toward Matt and Dick. As he approached he held up the three letters he had secured at the post office.
They were all for Motor Matt, two of them having been forwarded from Atlantic City. One was from an amusement manager in Chicago, offering a fancy figure to the boys to take theHawkto the great lakes for exhibition purposes; another was from an enthusiastic member of the Aëro Club of America asking the boys their price for the air ship; but the third letter—that was the one that caused them to sit up and take notice. It ran as follows:
"From what I've heard of you, you're a one-two-seven boy and all to the good. How'd you like to get your lunch hooks on that bag of sparks? You can pull it off, if you get busy, and the undersigned will help. All you need is nerve and ginger. I can furnish my share.You've got an air ship. Well, hit the clouds and fly to me. I'll put you wise. Meet me at Bayou Yamousa, wherever that is, and come in a hurry. I'm going there now and I've got the start of you by some hours. This is a hot starter, and no 'con.'"A Dub Who Ought to Have Known Better."
"From what I've heard of you, you're a one-two-seven boy and all to the good. How'd you like to get your lunch hooks on that bag of sparks? You can pull it off, if you get busy, and the undersigned will help. All you need is nerve and ginger. I can furnish my share.You've got an air ship. Well, hit the clouds and fly to me. I'll put you wise. Meet me at Bayou Yamousa, wherever that is, and come in a hurry. I'm going there now and I've got the start of you by some hours. This is a hot starter, and no 'con.'
"A Dub Who Ought to Have Known Better."
A BULLET FROM BELOW.
The boys were stunned. Could it be possible that this was a "straight tip," and not a hoax?
The letter was written on a scrap of paper taken from a notebook; and the envelope in which it was inclosed had been used twice. The first time it had been addressed to "Hubert Bangs, General Delivery, New Orleans, La." The "Hubert Bangs" had been scratched off with a lead pencil and Motor Matt's name written in its place. The ragged end of the envelope had been folded over and secured with a pin.
"A drick!" muttered Carl. "Dot feller Pangs iss vone oof Jurgens' gang."
"Strike me lucky," put in Dick, "but that's the sizing I give it, Matt."
"You're wrong," averred Matt. "If a trick was intended, Bangs would never have used an old envelope bearing his name. Be sure of that. Even if a trickwasintended, it would be a ruse to get us into the vicinity of the gang of thieves. The gang wouldn't do that, being too anxious, just now, to keep out of sight. But, supposing that was Jurgens' game, wouldn't it be a good thing for us to come close to the thieves? They have the diamonds, and they are what we want."
"Right-o!" exclaimed Dick. "Hoax or no, our move is to slant away for Bayou Yamousa, where we intended to go in the first place. We'll not find Yamousa there, but luck of another kind may be waiting for us."
"Vy von't ve findt Yamousa?" inquired Carl, his face brightening a little.
Dick showed him the paragraph in the paper and Carl spelled it out, his face continuing to clear as he read.
"I don'd vish der olt foodoo voman any hardt luck," breathed Carl, "aber I vas gladder she ain'd dere as dot she vas. It vill be pedder for us. Are ve going to hit der air route?"
"Just as quick as we can," answered Matt briskly, hurrying to the car.
There was no wind to speak of, but it required manœuvring to guide theHawkout from under the high roof and to the edge of the dock. The boys, after stowing the mooring ropes by which they had hauled the air ship into the open, got aboard the car and Matt started the engine.
A moment later the propeller took the push, and theHawkglided up her airy path until she swung high over the City of New Orleans. People below could be seen running about and looking and pointing upward.
"We're causing quite a stir, mates," remarked Dick. "We'd cause more of a stir, though, if those people down there knew what we had in our noodles."
Carl ran out the American flag to the rear end of the air ship, and waved his cap. A cheer arose, weirdly distinct and inspiring.
"I feel in my pones," said Carl, "dot somet'ing iss going to habben. It's der olt hunch come pack. I hafen't felt dot for some leedle time. Aber I'd like to know," the Dutch boy added, as he floundered back to his post forward, "who it vas sent dot ledder."
"One of the gang may have weakened, or have been left out in the division of the booty," said Matt, laying his course calmly, and feeling very much at home and contented, now that he was running his beloved motor again. "The house in Prytania Street, you know, was watched night and day. It was spied upon yesterday afternoon and night while Jurgens, Whistler, and Bangs must have been laying their plans. It's my idea that there is another member of the gang, and perhaps it is this fourth man who wrote the letter."
"One guess is as good as another, mate," replied Dick. "We'll know who the fellow is, maybe, when we get to the bayou."
"Und meppy nod," said Carl. "Meppy dose fellers haf a drap all sed for us, und dot ve vill trop indo it und mix oop mit all kindts oof oxcidement."
"That's right, Carl," growled Dick. "You're the original wet blanket. Why don't you square away and look on the bright side? The job that's set for us is hard enough without any of your croaking."
"I don'd vas croaking!" protested Carl. "I look on der plack site, und den, ven der pright site shows oop ve like him pedder pecause ve don't oxbect it. I am jeerful all der dime. Ask Matt aboudt dot."
"Carl's intentions are good, Dick," said Matt. "You must give him credit for that. We both know the prospect ahead of us isn't any too pleasing. We're going it blind and trusting to luck. The more I think about that letter, however, the more confidence I have in the good intentions of the writer. Whistler, you know, used to work on a plantation near Bayou Yamousa. It's easy to suppose that he has a knowledge of the country in that section, and that knowledge will stand the gang in hand, now that they're looking for a place to lay low."
"That's a fact," agreed Dick. "We'll get alongside those duffing beach combers, and then it will be up to us to lay them aboard and grab the diamonds. We'll do it," he added stoutly. "Motor Matt's along, and Motor Matt's luck is with us."
Light as the bird after which she was named, theHawkskimmed through the sunlit air, five hundred feet above the "Father of Waters." Boats below, bound for New Orleans or outward to the Gulf, were passed, many a glass being trained on the air ship and its passengers.
Matt and his chums had gone over this route once before, and now, while they were taking the back track, they remembered the landmarks and guided theHawkaccordingly.
After two hours of sailing over the river, Dick sighted their turning point and gave the order for an easterly course. TheHawkswung around, answering the steering rudder easily. The motor worked perfectly, and the air ship swerved and shifted with the slightest touch on the guiding lever.
"And that swab who belongs to the Aëro Club wants to buy theHawk!" scoffed Dick. "We'll never sell her, Matt. If it's money we want, we can make more with the air ship than we could in any other line of business. Besides, who'd change this air flying for anything else under heaven? I'd flog the cat all the days of my life if we were ever foolish enough to let go of this craft."
"I'll go on record in the same way, Dick," said Matt.
"Me, too," chanted Carl. "Vile ve haf derHawkve can be vay oop in G, all der time. Yah, you bed my life, I like dis pedder as anyt'ing."
That flight was the very poetry of the lads' air-ship experience. Fate was lowering over theHawk—destruction was skulking just ahead in the heavy timber below—and Motor Matt and his chums were to look back on that flight to Bayou Yamousa as their last.
Mile after mile of tree tops sped rearward under the car. The boys knew that they were drawing close to the bayou, and Carl and Dick were attending strictly to their work as lookouts.
"I t'ink I see der rifer vat der bayou iss on," announced Carl suddenly, pointing ahead and a little to the left. "Vat you t'ink, Tick? Vas I righdt?"
"Come down a little, Matt," called Dick; "I think I'm beginning to recognize this country, and that Carl has called the turn."
Matt tilted the rudder and theHawkswooped downward. Before Matt brought the air ship to a level, they were less than twenty feet above the tops of the tallest trees.
"Two points to port, mate," shouted Dick. "There," he added, "hold her so. Very well done. We're coming to the bayou, cap'n and——"
Dick's words were bitten short by a sharp, incisive note from below. This was followed instantly by a smashing sound, a spitefulslap, and a wild hissing.
Cries of alarm came from Dick and Carl.
The motor stopped with an impotent gurgle, the propeller slowed down, and theHawkbegan to pitch forward and backward and to swerve sideways dangerously.
"Some one shot at us!" yelled Dick excitedly. "The bullet came from among the trees, down there!"
"Py shinks," roared Carl, in a panic, "ve're done for. Ged her down on der groundt, Matt! Be as kevick as vat you can! Ach, himmeblitzen, I bed you ve vas all goners."
"Steady, pards!" came the calm, unruffled voice of Motor Matt. "Hang on! Don't jump or let yourselves be thrown out. There's plenty of gas in the bag yet and it may be I can find a landing. Do you see an opening anywhere among the trees, Dick? Look sharp and speak quick!"
"I can't see the first sign of a clearing," Dick answered.
Just then theHawkwent into the wildest contortions. She seemed like a living thing, wounded to the death and plunging about in fierce agony.
First the car would be tilted until it was almost perpendicular in the air; then it would swerve to the same position, with the other end of the car downward; and, all the time it was leaping upward and downward in this hair-raising way, it was jerking violently right and left.
It was impossible for the boys to do anything more than to hang on for their lives. Occasionally they were swinging out of the car, above the tree tops, and again they would be hurled fiercely against the iron framework.
Matt, in this desperate plight, continued to keep his head. He knew that the bullet fired from below had struck and damaged the motor, and had then passed on through the gas bag.
The gas was pouring out, but Matt was hoping that enough buoyancy would remain to give them a safe landing on the surface, even if it must be a rough one.
In this he was disappointed. Suddenly there came a tearing sound from the bag, and all in the car knew that the bullet hole had widened into a rent under pressure of the gas.
Then, like so much lead, the doomed air ship swooped downward and crashed into the top of a tree.
THE WRECK.
For a moment, after the crash, Motor Matt was stunned and bewildered. When he regained his senses completely and realized where he was, he found that he was wedged between the guard rail of the car and a branch of the tree. Turning his head, he looked downward through a clear depth of fifty feet. But for the guard rail, he would have dropped the entire distance and probably have lost his life.
"Carl!" he shouted, clinging to the limb.
"Here I vas, Matt!" came the stifled answer. "I vas hung oudt on a pranch like der veek's vash. Ach, du lieber, vat a luck! Der poorHawk, she iss gone oop der shpout."
"Let's be thankful we didn't go up the spout along with her," replied Matt. "Where's Dick?"
"I don'd know vere he iss. Iss he on der groundt? Himmelblitzen! Oof anyt'ing has habbened mit Tick——"
"Dick?" shouted Matt. "I say, Dick!"
There was no answer, and a sickening sensation sped along the young motorist's nerves.
Turning again, he stared with frenzied eyes toward the ground near the tree. With an exclamation of thankfulness, he saw nothing there to justify his worst fears.
The tree was a live oak and thickly covered with Spanish moss. Dick could very easily be somewhere in the tree and yet out of sight. Certainly, although unconscious and not able to answer, he must have been caught and held among the branches.
"Is your position a safe one, Carl?" queried Matt.
"Veil, oof I don't hang on mit bot' handts und my eye vinkers I vill be on der groundt in some heaps."
"Hang on, then, and stay right where you are. I'm going to look for Dick."
One of the mooring ropes was close to Matt. Carefully he took his knife from his pocket and severed the rope; then, making one end fast to the tree limb, he clung to it while he got out from under the iron guard rail. Presently he was able to stand upright on the limb and peer about him through the trailing streamers of moss. He could not see Dick, but he did see something that impressed him powerfully. TheHawk, in one brief minute, had been relegated from the ranks of successful air ships into a mere mass of junk, wedged into the branches of the oak.
The gas bag was almost entirely deflated and looped itself over the bent and broken limbs. The silken envelope was hopelessly torn and much of it in rags.
The motor had been demolished, the end of the car containing it having come in smashing contact with a big limb. Besides that the ironwork was twisted and parts of it had snapped off.
There could be no repairing the air ship. She was asmuch a total loss as though she had gone to the bottom of the sea in fathomless waters.
Matt's heart felt a sudden wrench; but he thrust aside the feeling and continued his search for Dick. Carefully he made his way along the limb toward the silken envelope, pushing away the moss and peering anxiously as he went.
"Don'd you see nodding?" asked Carl.
"I can see that we'll never again do any sailing in theHawk," answered Matt.
"Ach, dot makes me feel pad mit meinseluf!" wailed Carl. "But I vas glad I vas alife! It vas some tight skveaks, I bed you. Tick!" he yelled. "Vere you vas, Tick?"
Still there came no answer. Silence reigned everywhere in the thick timber and Carl's voice echoed weirdly among the trees.
"He must be hurt and unable to answer, Carl," said Matt.
"You vas looking, eh?"
"Yes."
"Vell, don'd fall off mit yourseluf, dot's all. I don'd vas goot for anyt'ing, my nerfs iss in sooch a frazzle. All I can do is to hang on und say my brayers forvarts, packvarts, und sitevays. Oof ve could only find Tick I vould veel pedder."
Matt finally reached the remains of the gas bag. Climbing upward, he pushed the outer folds aside and there, lodged in the fork of a limb, was Dick.
Dick lay across the fork, head and hands hanging downward. His cap was caught in some small branches below.
"Here he is, Carl!" shouted Matt.
"Yah," answered the Dutch boy, "now I see him since you haf pulled der pag avay. He iss on der same limb as me. Do—do you t'ink he vas deadt, Matt?"
"He may be only stunned," replied Matt. "The thing to do is to get him out of there before he comes to and makes a move that will send him downward in a rush. See any rope near you, Carl?"
"Dere iss a coil oof it righdt py me. Vait und I vill ged it."
Matt heard Carl moving about cautiously, and finally the end of a rope came toward him. Matt caught the rope, but came within an inch of falling as he did so.
"I've got it, Carl," said he. "You keep hold of the other end and come forward along the limb. It will take both of us to get Dick down safely."
Carl, on hands and knees, came slowly along the limb. While he was advancing, Matt reached up and tied the end of the rope securely about Ferral's body, under the arms. By that time, Carl was close to Ferral, standing on the limb and hanging to a branch.
"There's a good big crotch of the tree below me," called Matt, "and if you can lower Dick down, I'll drop lower where I can work better."
"I vill do der pest vat I can, Matt," answered Carl. "Tick has der rope aroundt him, und ve can keep him from falling. Go on mit yourseluf."
"You'd better tie your end of the rope around the limb," counseled Matt, "and I'll take a turn of it around this broken branch. That will give me a leverage when we come to lower Dick."
While Carl secured the end of the rope, Matt slid down into the large fork.
"All ready!" he called up. "Be careful now, Carl. The least slip will send both you and Dick downward."
"I do der pest vat I can," repeated Carl.
Bracing himself in the fork, Matt held to the rope with one hand and reached up the other as Dick came down to him.
The rope tightened around the stump of the branch, and Matt let it slide through his hand.
Slowly and carefully Motor Matt went about his work, watched breathlessly by Carl.
The purchase Matt had on the rope was sufficient to enable him to hold Dick in the air while he guided his swaying body downward. As soon as Dick was below him, Matt was able to lay hold of the rope with both hands and let Dick drop at a swifter rate.
In a few minutes Dick was safely on the ground, an inanimate heap at the foot of the tree.
"Dot vas vell done!" declared Carl, heaving a long sigh of relief. "Now how ve going to ged down ourselufs, Matt?"
"Have you tied the rope securely, up there?"
"Yah, so."
"Then we'll have to slide down. You go first, Carl. As soon as you reach the ground, I'll follow you."
"I don'd vas mooch oof a sailor," said Carl, sitting down on the limb and laying hold of the rope, "und I can shlide down a lod easier as I couldt climb oop. Here I go!"
The first twenty feet of the rope was covered by Carl like chain lightning; after that, however, he got a better grip and went the rest of the way more slowly.
Matt lowered himself hand over hand, descending as easily as though he was going down a ladder. Carl was kneeling beside Dick when Matt's feet touched ground.
"His heart iss going like anyt'ing," observed Carl joyfully, "und I can't findt dot he has any proken pones."
"We'll carry him to the edge of the bayou and see if a little water won't help revive him," said Matt. "Poor old Dick! He'll take the loss of theHawkpretty hard, but we ought all of us to be thankful we got out of that scrape with our lives."
"It vas der closest call vat efer I hat, you bed you! Aber say, vonce!"
"Well?"
"Ve vas forgedding aboudt der feller vat fired dot pullet. Oof he vas anyvere aroundt, meppy he vill haf some more pullets for us."
The wreck, and the saving of Dick, had so taken up Matt's attention that he had not given any thought to the marksman who had caused the trouble.
As Carl spoke, both boys lifted themselves erect and peered about them. They could see no one.
"The scoundrel is leaving us alone," said Matt darkly. "He ought to be content with what he has done, I think," and he swept a rueful glance upward into the tree.
"Who he vas, do you t'ink?"
"Some hunter, perhaps; maybe it was a superstitious negro, who fired at us and then ran away."
"Und meppy," suggested Carl, in a tremor, "it vas some oof der Jurgens gang! Meppy dot iss der drap dey vas going to shpring."
"Maybe; but, even if what you say is correct, we've got to go right ahead and take care of Dick. Lay hold of him, Carl, and help me."
The two boys picked up their injured chum and carriedhim to the bank of the bayou; then, while Matt made a more extensive examination, in order to determine the seriousness of Dick's injury, Carl went after water.
There was a bad bruise on Dick's forehead, but it was no more than a bruise, although it must have been caused by a pretty hard blow.
"As he went over the limb, Carl," said Matt, "he must have struck his head against it. I don't think he is badly hurt, though."
Taking Carl's cap, which the Dutch boy had filled with water, Matt dashed the contents in Dick's face. While Carl was going back after more water, Dick suddenly opened his eyes and stared at Matt.
"How's everything, mate?" murmured Dick.
"We're alive, old chap," replied Matt, "and that ought to be enough, don't you think, considering what we've been through?"
"You and Carl are all right?"
"Yes."
"And I dodged Davy Jones, after shaking hands with him?"
"It looks that way."
"Then, strike me lucky! it's better than I had hoped for."
Just then Carl came running up the bank and grabbed Dick's hand.
"I hat radder be porn lucky as hantsome, any tay," he rejoiced, "hey, Tick?"
THE UNEXPECTED.
Ferral staggered to his feet.
"It's a regular monkey's fist to me," said he, "how we ever got out of that mess. The last I remember I was slamming into the branches of a tree, then something hit me and the sunshine was turned off. It can't be, mates, that I dropped clear through that tree and hit the ground? I'm tough, but I think I'd show more marks than I do if that had happened."
Matt explained how Dick had been got down out of the wreck of theHawk.
"You lads must have had a rummy old time of it, hauling me around that tree top," went on Dick. "And so the good oldHawkis done for! She carried us many a mile, mates, and we'll never see her like again unless——" He paused.
"Unless what?" queried Matt.
"Why, unless we can get her out of the tree and patch her up."
"Impossible, Dick. That would cost more than it would to build a new air ship. If we thought it worth while to do that, I have some new ideas I'd like to incorporate into the machine."
Dick's heaviness vanished a little.
"We've money enough in the bank, Matt," said he, "and if you say the word, we'll——"
"We'd better get out of the trouble this air ship has got us into, Dick," interrupted Matt, "before we think of building another."
"That's so. We look like a lot of ragamuffins. I'd like to clap eyes on that loafing longshore scuttler that brought us down! Can you make a guess as to who it was?"
"It might have been some superstitious negro hunter; or, as Carl suggested, Jurgens or one of his gang. If it was any of the latter, we have probably fallen into a snare. But if it was one of the robbers, why don't he show himself?"
"That may not be his game. What's our next move, Matt? We can't stand here boxing the compass when there's dirty weather ahead."
"I'm expecting the writer of that letter to put in an appearance. From what he wrote, I thought he would be here ahead of us."
"I tell you somet'ing!" exploded Carl. "He vas der feller mit der gun. He got us here und he bagged us, und now he don'd vant to come oudt vere ve can ged a look at him. I vould like to knock his plock off, yah, so helup me!"
"We might make a move in the direction of Yamousa's cabin," said Matt. "That would be a more comfortable place to wait than out here in the open."
"Don'd you nefer t'ink dot!" chattered Carl. "Der blace iss pad meticine. I bed you der olt foodoo's shpook haunts der capin."
"Avast, there, you flying Dutchman!" reproved Dick. "We don't believe in spooks. If you're afraid to go with us, Carl, you can heave to and drop your anchor right here."
"I go verefer you go, und dry und be as jeerful as bossiple, only I don'd like going to der shpook laty's house."
Matt and Dick set out around the edge of the bayou and were presently upon familiar ground. Dick indicated the spot where theHawkhad been moored, upon the occasion of their first visit to the place, and it was there that Matt called a halt while they made a survey of the hovel where the Obeah woman had lived.
It had been decorated with bones of various kinds, when the chums saw the place first, but now the bones had disappeared. The door was closed, but there was a bucket standing beside the doorstep.
"From the looks," said Matt, "I should say that there is some one in the hut."
"Den dose peoble must haf been pad off for some blace to go," spoke up Carl.
"Mayhap the Jurgens outfit are in there?" said Dick.
"Just what I was thinking," continued Matt.
"Den ve'd pedder look a leedle oudt or ve vill be gedding indo some hod vater."
"You and Carl slip into the edge of the timber, Dick," said Matt, "and I'll go on ahead and do some reconnoitring. If the gang is there I'll find it out, and then I'll come back and we'll decide what it is best for us to do."
"You're cutting out all the rough work for yourself," demurred Dick.
"I'm the one best able to stand it," was the answer. "You're far from being yourself, old chap, and Carl is too much afraid of spooks to accomplish anything."
"I do feel a bit groggy on my feet, and that's a fact," admitted Ferral, staggering to the edge of the brush and dropping wearily down. "That nick on the head took the starch all out of me, but I'll feel better after a while. Go ahead, Matt, but don't stir up any trouble. We're not in shape to stand off that gang of pirates."
"I don't intend to let the scoundrels see me," Matt answered as he moved away.
Keeping to the edge of the timber, he was able to reach a point abreast of the hut without showing himself. From the place where he came to a halt he could look across a narrow stretch of clear ground and see a window in the rear wall of the hovel.
A look through the window would tell him all he wanted to know, and he dropped down on hands and knees and began crawling across the open space.
He appreciated to the full Dick's suggestion as to not stirring up trouble. Jurgens, according to Matt's surmise, probably had two men with him and the young fellow who had played the part of Matt in making the diamond haul. This made four against Matt and his two comrades—an overwhelming force, when it is remembered that undoubtedly the thieves were armed.
Matt gained the place under the window without making a noise; then, raising cautiously, he pressed his face to the glass.
To his disappointment, a piece of cloth had been placed over the window on the inside. A broken pane in the window, however, enabled him to listen for sounds which would let him know whether or not there was really any one in the hut.
There were no voices and no sound of any stir, but Matt's keen ear detected the slow, regular breathing of some one asleep. And there was only one sleeper—he was positive of that.
For a few moments he debated the question. Should he step boldly into the hut and find out who the person was, or would it be better to go back after Carl and Dick so as to have a superior force in case of a clash?
Matt decided that the move was for him to make. Going back into the edge of the timber, he cut himself a stout bludgeon; thus armed, he stepped quietly around to the front of the hut and laid a hand on the door.
It was locked.
A little examination assured him that the bolt was not strong enough to resist a determined onslaught, and he boldly hurled himself against the door.
It went crashing inward, and Matt pitched forward across the floor and almost lost his footing.
A shout of consternation went up, and Matt saw a form spring erect and stand facing him.
It was the form of a youth about Matt's own age, wearing a dingy sweater and frayed corduroy trousers. At the first glance each recognized the other.
"King, or I'm a Reub!"
"Great spark plugs! The fellow that played that dodge on Townsend!"
Matt cleared the distance separating him from the youth at a leap; but the other had jumped backward, at the same time pulling a weapon from his pocket.
"Don't you go and make a sucker play, Motor Matt!" cried Dashington warningly.
"Put up that revolver!" ordered Matt, staring sternly at the youth and taking a fresh grip on the handle of the club.
"You've got a picture of me making a funny play like that—I don't think. Throw away your club and I'll throw away this pepper box. Gee, but wouldn't it uppercut you, the way we resemble each other? Say, you ought to be delighted to see me instead of trying to make a pass at my block with that stick. I wasn't looking for you to drop in on me so soon."
"I doubt if you were expecting me to drop in on you at all," said Matt sarcastically. "Where are Jurgens, and Whistler, and Bangs?"
"Close by, cull. Don't make too much noise or they'll get next to you and me and blow in on us."
"Where are those diamonds?" asked Matt.
"Hand me an easy one."
"You ought to know. You're the one that stole them, and you stole them for Jurgens and his pals."
"Part of that's on the level. I did lift the bag of sparks, and it really seems as though I went to all that trouble for Jurgens and his pals. Anyhow, I didn't help myself so you could see it. Don't get to hearing funny noises under your bonnet, now, but drop the club and let's be sociable. If you—— Wow, but you're chain lightning, and then some!"
Quick as a flash Matt had thrown the club. It struck the revolver in Dashington's hand and knocked it clear to the opposite side of the room.
Before Dashington could recover it, Matt was upon him and there was a short wrestling match, catch-as-catch-can. Being far and away Dashington's superior in science, Matt was only about two minutes in laying his antagonist on his back. When they fell, they knocked over a table, and the racket it made brought a stifled cry to Dashington's lips.
"They'll get wise to us! You're queering yourself, King. Let me up, quick! I can hear some one coming."
"You're my prisoner!" said Matt sharply.
"We'll both be prisoners of Jurgens and his gang if you don't take a tumble to the rights of this. Let me up, I tell you, or——"
Just then the hurrying steps outside reached the door.
"What's going on here, Matt?" came the excited voice of Dick Ferral, as he and Carl flung into the room.
"I've just captured that double of mine," answered Matt. "If we hang onto him possibly we can make him tell us something about Jurgens and the diamonds."
"Oh, sister!" mumbled Dashington, "wouldn't that give your thinker a twist? Pass it up, King. If you won't take your knees off my chest, then give me a chance to heave a little of the straight guff at you."
"Pick up that revolver, Dick," said Matt, nodding toward the weapon. "Keep it in your hands and don't let this fellow lose your eyes for a moment. He wants to talk, and we're going to let him, but if he tries to bolt, he's going to wish that he had thought twice before he tried it."
Dick hurried to the weapon and gathered it in, then Matt got up and let Dashington regain his feet.