Around the World in Ten Days

by Albert Bigelow Paine

  CHAPTER XIV

  A FAMILIAR FACE

  Our friends exchanged glances. The brow of every one of themcontracted into so plain a frown that Mr. Masters, the superintendentof the airdrome, could not help noticing it.

  "I hope nothing is wrong, gentlemen," he ventured half-interrogatively.

  "So do we," responded Mr. Giddings, "but if there is, it is nothingconcerning you, sir, at least. We thank you for your attention to ourmachine, and wish you to take the best care of it while it is here.Don't let anybody meddle with it, will you?"

  "We'll look after it right, you may depend upon that," said the flyingofficial; and the party turned and left the building.

  Outside, where they would be secure from the hearing of others, allcame to a pause, for there was a lot on their minds.

  "Well, boys," said the publisher, "you see our suspicions back there inMiami were certainly well-founded. It seems that in some manner thosestolen blue-prints have fallen into the hands of our rivals, and theyhave been wise enough to profit by the fact."

  "Do you think, dad, that Mr. Wrenn could have been back of this theft?"propounded Bob who, although the publisher was a business rival of hisfather's, had always thought him above such operations.

  "I really do not know what to think," was Mr. Giddings's answer. "Ihave always entertained the greatest respect for this gentleman'shonesty, if he does differ with me politically. But I must admit thatsince this thing has happened--"

  "Sh-h!" warned Bob suddenly. "Here comes Mr. Wrenn now!"

  It was as he said. Turning his head in the direction of the entranceto the landing-field, Mr. Giddings instantly recognized, in the shortfigure in linen coming toward them, the person of the publisher of the_Clarion_.

  "I shall have this matter out with him right now," was the grimdeclaration of the _Daily Independent's_ director.

  "Well, well! how are you, Giddings? How are you, Robert?" cried Mr.Wrenn, sticking out his pudgy hand when he came up to the little group.Such was his gusto that he did not seem to notice the lukewarmness ofthe father's and son's greeting. Mr. Giddings introduced John, Paul,and Tom, and then the publisher of the _Clarion_ continued withgood-humored raillery: "I'm mighty glad to see you fellows here, for Ibegan to think you would get scared and flunk us at the last moment.Was over on the hotel veranda when I saw a plane land here, and Iguessed it might be you, and hurried right over. Put your machine upyet?"

  "We did," said Mr. Giddings rather sourly. "And do you know, Wrenn,when we ran the Sky-Bird in the hangar we saw yours in there andreceived quite a disagreeable surprise--I may say shock."

  Mr. Giddings and the boys watched the broad face of their rival verynarrowly as this statement was put. Would he act guilty?

  There was an explosion of laughter, the heartiest of laughter, from the_Clarion_ director. "Oh, say, that's one on you, Giddings! I knewyou'd be down in the mouth when you saw our machine and realized thatyou would have to contend against one as good or better than yourown--one of the same type!" And he laughed again, until he had to wipetears from his little blue eyes.

  This was incomprehensible conduct from a guilty conscience! What couldit mean? Surely Mr. Wrenn, of the _Clarion_, was either the coldestand deepest-dyed rogue in the world or a man entirely innocent!

  "How did you know that we had an airplane like yours?" asked Johnsharply.

  The fat man broke into renewed chuckles at this question, and it was amoment or two before he could find words. Then he said:

  "There's a little story connected with this, and now that we're righton the eve of the race and there's nothing to be gained by furthersecrecy, I'll tell it to you. You see, about a year and a half ago,possibly two years, a young man came to me for a job as sportingreporter; said he had been a flyer in France and that the Governmentwanted him as an Air Mail pilot, but he would rather take up thenewspaper game. I put him to work, and he proved very good ingathering news of sports, especially aviation stuff. A week or soafter you challenged me to this race--which I would have liked to backout of, but couldn't and save my honor--this chap showed me someblue-prints of a novel kind of airplane which he claimed to haveco-devised with a flyer friend who, he said, was helping to make you amachine of the same type for this contest. He--"

  "What is this young man's name?" inquired John Ross excitedly.

  "Peter Deveaux."

  "Peter Deveaux!" exclaimed John and Paul at once. And John added: "Mr.Wrenn, that fellow did not refuse to fly in the Air Mail service; he_did_ fly, and was dishonorably discharged for drunkenness.Furthermore, he stole those plans from our hangar!"

  The publisher of the _Clarion_ opened his eyes wide. "Can you provethose assertions?" he inquired. "That last one is a serious charge,sir."

  "Nevertheless we can prove it when we get back to New York," declaredJohn warmly.

  "Well," said Mr. Wrenn, "I'll finish my story, and then we can talkover this new development more understandingly. As I said, Deveauxclaimed to have a half-right in the plans, and having no reason todoubt it, I told him to proceed, when he proposed to make an airplanefor us from the designs and to head a crew for the _Clarion_ in thisrace around the world. Now you will understand my position in thematter."

  "Wrenn," spoke up Mr. Giddings with quick frankness, "I beg yourpardon. The young men here and myself fancied you must have had aguilty part in the production of this fac-simile of our airplane. Wenow see who is really to blame."

  "I do not blame you for your suspicions," was the candid reply of thefat man, "if things are as you state; and I will do you the honor,Giddings, to say that, although we are business rivals, your word is asgood as gold with me. This is a lamentable situation. What shall wedo about it?"

  Mr. Giddings studied deeply before making answer. Then he observed:"Wrenn, this contest, as you know, has been too widely advertised towreck it just as it is about to begin by the arrest of this man, PeterDeveaux. Say nothing to him about it; in fact, we will none of usmention a word of this to anybody; but when the race is over you canquietly dismiss him from your service, if you wish. As I now look atit, no great harm has been done, if any, by his duplicity; with twoplanes practically alike, the race will really be a fairer one, and amore exciting one for the public who read our newspapers, and supremacywill probably go to the better crew."

  "I don't know about my crew, as Deveaux picked them up; but they didgood work when they brought me down here the other day in the plane,"said Mr. Wrenn. "Giddings, I think your plan is all right, and we'lllet the race go on as if nothing had happened; but you bet your lastdollar I'll fire Pete when it's all over, if he has done what you say!"

  With that the publisher of the _Clarion_ accompanied our friends backto the hangar, where he had a good look at the Sky-Bird II, and showedhis own airplane, which was in all essentials an exact copy of theother. Following this they left the airdrome and went to their hotels.

  All had a good night's rest--probably the last one they would have onearth for more than a week,--and after a hearty breakfast theyproceeded to get what supplies they would need to last them until theyshould reach Georgetown, British Guiana, on the north coast of SouthAmerica. This would be their first stop. Somehow the townspeoplequickly guessed their identity, and they were followed from store tostore as they shopped by a curious and motley throng of dark-skinnednatives, among whom were noticed quite a few white children, presumablybelonging to American employees of the Government.

  With such eatables as they had bought stored in a basket, and carryinga few other packages, the boys went out to the airdrome. A guard stoodat the door to keep out those having no business in the hangar, and asthe young flyers passed in they noticed that Mr. Wrenn and a group offour fellows in flying-suits were going over the rival airplane.

  "Here, boys, come over here a minute!" called the fat man. As theyapproached, the aviators with him turned from their work. One, aslender fellow with swarthy skin and a scrubby black mustache, scowledwhen he looked at John
Ross, and as Bob Giddings and Tom Meeks gottheir eyes on him, they gave an involuntary start, for they recognizedin the man the fellow they had seen hanging around the fair-grounds inYonkers when their machine was in process of construction.

  "It's time you fellows got acquainted with each other," said Mr. Wrenn,and he forthwith proceeded to introduce his crew as Pete Deveaux, ChuckCrossman, Oliver Torrey, and Sam Lane.

  "How are you, Ross?" greeted Pete Deveaux. He uttered a sour sort oflaugh, as his companions offered their hands around the group. "Iwon't do any shaking," said he, "as my hands are kind of greasy."

  "Don't worry, Deveaux," advised John quickly. "We won't feel bad overa little thing like that."

  "That your plane over there?" asked the swarthy fellow.

  "That's it; quite a strong resemblance to yours here," said John withcutting sarcasm.

  "That's so," was Deveaux's comment, casting a quick look toward Mr.Wrenn. Apparently he was as anxious to drop the subject as a chickenwould a red-hot kernel of corn, for he immediately observed, with anill-concealed sneer: "I suppose you guys think you're going to leave usa good ways behind in this race?"

  "We're not telling what we think," put in Paul; "but one thing is sure:we're going to keep you hustling some."

  "Oh, that's too bad, now, ain't it?" drawled Oliver Torrey, as heleered out of one eye.

  "Say, kid, we'll beat youse so bad you'll be squallin' before you'rehalf-way round the globe," put in Sam Lane.

  "You bet! Ain't no use o' flying against such veterans as us,"supplemented Chuck Crossman, with a wag of his frowsy head.

  Mr. Wrenn frowned. While these might be his own men, it was hard tocountenance such bragging.