by Roy Rockwood
CHAPTER XXII
QUEER PROCEEDINGS
Hiram and Bruce talked of many matters the rest of that day. The formerwas proud and elated over his success, and Bruce would not discount thegreatness of his friend’s feat.
“You beat them all put together,” he told Hiram. “I heard two mentalking with one of the committee near the grand stand. I think theyhad something to do with the government postal service.”
“They can’t hire me away from Dave,” observed Hiram with a wink and alaugh.
“Well, they asked the committee man for the names of the crew of the_Scout_ and took them down.”
“Oh, it wasn’t much,” insisted Hiram. “All I’m glad for is that itgives us twenty more points. I feel safe now.”
“What with the big event, the long distance stunt, ahead?”
“There hasn’t been a second that Mr. Brackett and Dave have not countedon the _Ariel_ winning that particular event,” declared Hiram.
“It’s to-morrow; isn’t it?” asked Bruce. “I hope we have a fine day.”
The conversation took place just before dusk. Then Mr. Brackett andDave called Hiram into the little office of the hangar to go over somedetails of the morrow’s race. Bruce got through with some cleaning workabout the _Scout_, put on his coat and passed by the hangar entrance.
“Say, you go down to the restaurant and wait for me,” spoke Hiram,appearing in the doorway. “I’ll be along in about fifteen minutes.”
“All right,” assented Bruce, and he started across the grounds,whistling cheerily.
It was wonderful the change that had taken place in the appearance andfortunes of the orphan lad, since his first chance acquaintance withHiram Dobbs, and later with Dave Dashaway. As he proceeded to therestaurant, free, well dressed, with money in his pocket and all worryabout his little sister Lois gone, Bruce felt like a new being.
“If ever a fellow was grateful I am!” he soliloquized. “Those twofriends have not only asked me to stay with them, but really want me todo it. Even Mr. Brackett has taken a liking to me. He told Mr. Dashawayto put me on the pay roll at ten dollars a week, and I’m a part of allthis great bustle and excitement going on here. And that scheme ofmine—the diamonds!”
The speaker’s eyes sparkled. He had not told Hiram everything aboutthem—an interruption had diverted into business channels a conversationthey were holding. Then the winning of the mail bag contest had puteverything else out of the head of the proud young pilot of the _Scout_for the time being.
Bruce had not taken the diamond stick pins found in the little biplaneto the police. He had ferreted around and had located the people fromwhom they were stolen. The robbery had taken place at a large jewelrystore. Bruce had called upon its proprietor.
The latter regarded him at first with some suspicion, for Bruce wasguarded, and felt his way cautiously. He produced the diamonds he hadfound, and told his story.
“Why—I’ve come to you, is because I’m willing to give some time tohunting for the rest of those diamonds if you say the word,” he hadtold the jeweler. “I’ve got some ideas. Maybe they’re no good, but I’mpretty well acquainted around Wayville, the town where the robber washurt, and I might stumble across something.”
The jeweler became eager. He was dissatisfied with the police, he said.He encouraged Bruce in every way he could. He even offered to pay areward for the recovery of the stick pins. This Bruce declined.However, when he left the store it was with a springy step and greathopes—and the promise of a reward if he found the robber’s bootythrilled him.
“Why, I’d be rich!” he told himself breathlessly. “I’d have moneyenough to fight old Martin Dawson through the courts to the lastfinish. Oh, yes—as soon as the meet here is over, I’m going to go toWayville. There’s something I know that the police didn’t know, and itmay lead to big results.”
Bruce reached the restaurant dwelling on excited anticipations over thediamonds, and filled with pleasant thoughts as to his new environmentgenerally. His mind was fully occupied for about a quarter of an hour.Then he began to get hungry and impatient for Hiram to arrive. A mancame in rather hurriedly, and went over to a table in a shadowed cornerof the room. Bruce, studying everything going on to pass the time away,noticed something peculiar about the newcomer.
The latter wore a light overcoat with a well turned up collar. He had avery dark beard, and wore colored goggles.
“I’ll wager that man doesn’t want to be noticed much,” thought Bruce,as the man took a seat with his back turned to those at the othertables.
The newcomer ordered a light lunch. He did not seem to enjoy it much.He ate it rapidly. Then he kept looking at his watch as if impatientfor some certain minute to arrive. He drew the bill of fare towardshim, fumbled it over, took a pencil from his pocket and began aimlesslyto scribble on its reverse blank surface.
Finally he arose, and, pulling his cap well down over his eyes,proceeded to the cashier’s desk to pay his check. Just then Hiram camein at a side door. He slipped into the seat opposite Bruce and fixedhis eyes upon his face.
“Don’t make any suspicious move,” he spoke under his breath andrapidly. “You noticed the man who sat at the table over in the corneryonder?”
“The one just paying his check? Why, yes, I’ve been watching him forthe last half hour. He’s leaving the restaurant now.”
“Go after him, don’t delay,” urged Hiram excitedly. “I’ve been watchinghim, too—through the window. Follow him, and see where he goes and getword to me as quick as you can.”
“Why, Hiram——”
“Don’t waste time!” interrupted Hiram almost sharply. “I may bemistaken—I think not, and this is important.”
Bruce questioned no further. He was used to obeying his friendimplicitly and he had a firm belief that, impetuous as he sometimeswas, Hiram generally knew what he was about.
The minute Bruce was gone Hiram glided over to the table recentlyoccupied by the stranger. His point of immediate interest was the billof fare upon which the man had just been scribbling—Hiram scanned itssurface eagerly. His eyes brightened from surmise to conviction.
“Aha!” he almost cried out. “I was right. It’s Mr. Borden.”
What that might mean to them all Hiram did not know. Why Borden hadappeared on the scene in disguise he did not know, either. All Hiramconsidered at that moment was that the tramp artist had proven a goodfriend in the past. He had not come to them of late, and probably had areason for it. He would scarcely venture in the vicinity of theSyndicate crowd unless he had another reason.
Borden might have been a tramp once, but he presented that appearanceno longer. Artist he still was, for he had idly sketched many facesupon the bill of fare because it was natural for him to do it.
Hiram had been nearing the restaurant when he saw the man enter it.Something in the free, careless swing of the stranger had reminded himof their old friend of the Midlothian grounds. He had watched himthrough the window. Now he had verified his suspicions.
“What is it going to lead to?” he meditated impatiently and satdrumming his finger tips nervously on the table, waiting for his friendand messenger to show up.
Worthington, Valdec and three others of the Syndicate crowd strollednoisily into the restaurant. The coincidence of their arrival made thethoughtful Hiram wonder if Borden had been timing their movements.
In about twenty minutes he saw Bruce enter the doorway, so Hiram arosequickly and jostled him back into the street.
“Never mind supper for a bit,” he said, leading his companion to adistance from the restaurant. “The Worthington crowd are in there andthey might be snooping around if we got to talking. The man youfollowed—what about him?”
“He slipped away from me,” reported Bruce with some perturbation, “inthe most remarkable way.”
“Where did he go?” pressed Hiram.
“To the Syndicate hangar. Most of that crowd were getting read
y forsupper. The man you sent me to follow went in around the camp in a sly,slinking way as if he knew his bearings pretty well.”
“He did, indeed!” murmured Hiram.
“I thought,” narrated Bruce, “that he had got away from me, when hecame bolting out from the big hangar. I hadn’t seen him go in. He hadsomething in one hand wrapped up in a piece of cloth, a bag I took itto be. He ran straight for the fence. I got behind a tool shed andwatched him.”
“Go on,” urged Hiram eagerly.
“Well, one of the electric lights shone pretty bright just there. Theman put his parcel on the ground. Then he took something from hispocket and slipped it across one ankle. I took it to be a band with ahook to it. He must have had another hook in his hand for he ran upthat fence and vanished over the top of it like a monkey.”
“But the package he brought from the _Whirlwind_ hangar?” asked Hiram.
“Oh, yes—I came near forgetting that. When he set it on the ground thewrapping fell away from it and I saw what it was.”
“And what was it?” asked Hiram.
“A barograph, just like the one you have in the _Ariel_.”
“Are you sure?” eagerly asked Hiram. “A barograph, you say?”
“Yes,” repeated Bruce, wondering at the earnest, excited manner of hiscomrade. “Even at the distance I was I could see the record reel andthe metal recorder, and—why, what are you grabbing my arm that wayfor?” inquired Bruce in surprise. “And you’re trembling all over.”
“Should think I would!” declared Hiram Dobbs, his tones quivering withthe satisfaction of some great discovery—“I see the light at last!”
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