Motor Matt's Clue; or, The Phantom Auto

by Stanley R. Matthews

  CHAPTER VIII.

  THE KETTLE CONTINUES TO BOIL.

  Sercomb came up-stairs and stepped into the room. Daylight was justcoming in through the windows, and the gray of the morning andthe yellow of the lamplight gave Sercomb's face a ghastly look.Nevertheless, it was a frank and open face--as always.

  "Now, Dick," cried Sercomb, "what in the world has been going on here?Do you mean to say that some one came into this room and attacked you?"

  "That's the how of it, old ship," answered Ferral, repressing his realfeelings admirably. "As near as we can figure out, there were two ofthem. It was so dark, though, we couldn't see our own fists, so theremay have been more than two."

  "Some of the gang who dropped in here while I was away, I'll bet," saidSercomb.

  "I'm thinking the same thing, Ralph," returned Ferral, with a meaninglook at Matt. "They were handy, too, but not handy enough. They left usall at once, and how they ever did it beats me. We boxed the compassfor 'em, though, and when we'd worked around the card they thought theyhad enough--and ducked."

  "Where did they go?"

  "Didn't you hear them go out the front door?"

  "Not I, Dick! If I had, I'd have taken a part in the scrimmage myself."

  "You were slow hearing the racket, Ralph. It was all over when youpiped up."

  "I heard it quick enough, but I was sound asleep when it aroused me.Being a little bewildered, I went out into the kitchen."

  Something like loathing swept over Matt as he watched Sercomb's faceand listened to his smooth misstatement.

  "Wonder how Uncle Jack managed to hang on in such a lawless country asthis," said Ferral.

  "No one ever bothered him. He was pretty well liked by the scatteredsettlers."

  "Everybody liked the old chap! I thought no end of him myself."

  "Too bad you didn't show it, Dick, while he was alive," said Sercomb.

  There wasn't any sarcasm in his voice--only a dry, expressionlessstatement of what Ferral knew were the cold facts. Nevertheless, therewas a gratuitous slur in the words. Ferral bristled at once, but a lookfrom Matt caused him to curb his temper.

  "Belay a bit on that, Ralph," said Ferral mildly. "I know it wellwithout your say-so to round it off. From now on, though, I'll do mybest to show Uncle Jack what I think of him."

  Sercomb looked a little puzzled.

  "His will shows everybody what he thought of you--at the last," said he.

  It looked as though Sercomb was deliberately trying to force a quarrel,but Ferral, still with Matt's glances to admonish him, did not fallinto the trap.

  "I'll go down and get breakfast," observed Sercomb, after waiting invain for a response from Ferral. "Some Denver friends are coming upfrom Lamy to make me a little visit, and we may be a bit crowded here.There are three of them."

  It was a broad hint for Dick Ferral to take his two friends and leave,as soon after breakfast as he could make it convenient. Ferral fired upat that. Matt and Carl had served him well, and he was not the one toput up with any back-handed slaps from his cousin Ralph.

  "By the seven holy spiritsails, Sercomb!" he cried, "I'll have you knowthat I and my friends have as much right under Uncle Jack's roof as youand yours. We'll be here to breakfast, and as long as we want to stay."

  "Now, don't fly off at a tangent, Dick," returned Sercomb, with adistressed look. "I didn't mean anything like that, and why do you goout of your way to take me in any such fashion? I'll go down and getthe meal for all of us--if you can put up with my cooking."

  "Go and help, Carl," said Matt. "We don't want to make Mr. Sercomb anyextra trouble. We won't be here very long, anyhow."

  "Dot's me," said Carl, as cheerfully as he could.

  He hated to be associated with Sercomb, but the idea of a meal alwaysstruck a mellow note in Carl's get-up.

  "You understand, don't you, Mr. King?" said Sercomb, in a whining tone,turning to Matt and jerking his head toward Ferral.

  "Perfectly," smiled Matt.

  Carl and Sercomb went out. When they were going down the stairs Ferralshook his fist.

  "Shamming the griffin!" he growled; "the putty-faced shark, I'd like tolay him on his beam-ends! Do you wonder I've had a grouch at him allthese years, Matt?"

  "No, I don't," said Matt frankly; "but stick it out. I've a hunch,Dick, that you're soon going to be done with your cousin for good andall. He's playing a game here that's going to get him into hot water."

  Matt stretched himself out on the bed.

  "I'm going to lie here," said he, "and you can talk to me. Carl willkeep an eye on Sercomb. Tell me more about your uncle."

  "He was no end of a toff in London," replied Ferral, taking a chair andcasting a look at the portrait. "His wife died, and that broke him up;then his daughter died, and that was about the finish. He bucked up,though, and crossed the pond. When he was in Hamilton he said he wantedto go some place where there wasn't so many people. Then he came here."

  "This last move of his," said Matt, "looks like a strange one to me."

  "He was full of his crochets, Uncle Jack was, but there was always agood bit of sense down at the bottom of them. Sercomb would have gonedown on his knees and licked his boots, knowing Uncle Jack had money,and nobody but him and me to leave it to. There's another cut to myjib, though. I wouldn't go around where he was because I was afraidhe'd think the same of me. I've got a notion, Matt, and it just came tome."

  "What is it?"

  "I'll bet that, when Uncle Jack left, he hid that will, and that hesigned it and left blank the place where his heir's name was to be. Theone that was shrewd enough to find it, you know, could put in his ownname."

  "Why should he do that?"

  "Just to see whether Sercomb or I was the smarter."

  "But you overlook what your uncle said about being found wherever thewill was discovered."

  "Right-o. I'm always overlooking things. You see, I'm taken all abackwith this game of Sercomb's. If I knew what his lay was, or what he'strying to accomplish, I'd have my turn-to in short order. Still, as yousay, he's going to get his what-for no matter which way the wind blows."

  "There's a lot of things happened that are mighty mysterious," musedMatt; "little by little, though, they're clearing up. That clue Ihooked onto last night makes several things clear. Did Sercomb know youwere coming?"

  "The Lamy lawyer must have told him he'd found out where I was, and hadwritten to me. One thing I did do, and that was to sling my fist to aletter for Uncle Jack, once a month, anyhow. So he knew I was down inthe Panhandle."

  "When you pounded on the door last night, Sercomb must have suspectedit was you. If he hadn't, he'd have let you in."

  "He'd have let me in anyhow, only he didn't want me to see those otherthree swabs. And then for him to play-off like he did, and say he wascalling at a neighbor's! It would have done me a lot of good to blowthe gaff, when he came in on us a spell ago, and let him understandjust where he gets off."

  "That wouldn't have helped any, and it might have spoiled our chancesfor finding out what he's up to."

  What answer Ferral made to this Matt did not hear. The young motoristhad put in a strenuous night, and he was worn out. Ferral's words diedto a mumble, and before Matt knew it he was sound asleep.

  Some one shook him, and he opened his eyes and started up.

  "Dozed off, did I?" he laughed. "Sorry, old man, but I didn't sleepany last night, you know. You were saying----"

  An odor of boiling coffee and sizzling bacon floated up fromdown-stairs.

  "What I was saying, mate," answered Ferral, "was some sort of a whileago. I've had my jaw-tackle stowed for an hour, letting you do theshut-eye trick. But now it's about mess-time, I reckon; and, anyhow,those friends of Sercomb's are here from Lamy. Listen!"

  The chug of a motor on the low gear came to Matt. Getting up, he lookedout of a window that commanded the front of the house.

  A car was coming slowly along the blind trail from the road, followingthe same course the Red Flier
had taken the night before.

  As the automobile drew closer, Matt gave a startled exclamation.

  "Some new kink in the yarn, Matt?" queried Ferral.

  "I should say so!" answered Matt. "That's the same car that was in theroad last night----"

  "What?" demanded Ferral, grabbing Matt's arm.

  "There's no doubt of it, Dick," said Matt; "and the three in the carare the same ones Sercomb met and talked with. Two of them, of course,are the handy-boys who blew in here and roughed things up with you andCarl."

  The car came to a stop in front. Just then the front door opened andSercomb rushed out.

  "Hello, fellows!" he called. "Mighty glad to see you. Pile out andclean up for the grub-pile----"

  Matt heard that much, and just then had to turn around to look afterFerral. With an angry growl, Ferral had broken away and started downthe stairs.

  "Dick!" called Matt, running after him.

  But Ferral gave no heed to the call. He was down the stairs and out ofthe door like a shot. Matt was close on his heels, but he was not closeenough to keep him from trouble.

  "You two-faced crimp!" Matt heard him yell. "You'll down me in Lamy andtake my money, will you, and then show up here! Now, strike me lucky ifI don't play evens!"