Homepage
Login
Profile
BookClubs
dmBox
Read Ebook: Motor Matt's Make Up; or Playing a New Rôle by Matthews Stanley R
Font size:
Background color:
Text color:
Add to tbrJar First Page Next Page
Ebook has 774 lines and 29649 words, and 16 pages
was astounded. And so was McGlory.
"Have you any idea who the man was that called on the English woman in Lafayette and took Miss Manners away?"
"No. The Lafayette police are looking for him."
"Have you any idea that Ben Ali is mixed up in the affair?"
"I have, Motor Matt, and a very clear idea. I was ten years in India, and learned the natives there, and their ways. It was for that, I fancy, that Sir Roger asked me to come for Miss Manners. While I was about taking the train at Lafayette, yesterday, I received another message from the ambassador. That message informed me that a telegram had been received from Ben Ali, informing Sir Roger that he again had the girl in his possession, and that she would be delivered to any agent Sir Roger might send after her on payment of ten thousand pounds."
"Fifty thousand dollars!" exclaimed Matt. Then he whistled.
"Old Ben Ali is out for the stuff," muttered McGlory grimly.
"He's a crafty beggar!" commented Twomley. "I left all the telegrams with the police, and Sir Roger is taking the whole matter up with the United States state department. The Secret Service of the government will presently be at work on this case, for it is of international importance. Can you give any information, Motor Matt, that will help us find Ben Ali, or Miss Manners?"
Matt shook his head.
"Why doesn't the ambassador agree to send some one to meet Ben Ali? Then the rascal could be caught."
Just here Boss Burton strode into the tent, followed by Carl.
"Shut up about that, Carl," the showman was growling. "You haven't any right to that letter, and I'm going to keep it."
"I'm in der tedectif pitzness," returned Carl, "und I need dot ledder, py shinks, to helup unrafel der case. Modor Matt," and Carl appealed to his pard, "make Purton gif me der ledder."
"What letter?" demanded Matt.
"I'll tell you what we'll do," said Burton to Carl; "we'll leave the letter with Matt. If Wily can prove it's his, then Matt can turn the thing over to him."
Burton handed a folded sheet to Matt. The latter, entirely in the dark, opened the sheet and laid it on his knee.
"What sort of writing is this?" he asked.
"That's too many for me. It isn't Chinese--Carl said Ping told him that--and it isn't Dutch. Of course, it's not English. And who it belongs to, or where it came from, or what's the good of it, is more than I know. But it appears to have caused a lot of bother."
"It's Hindoostanee," spoke up Twomley, staring at the open sheet. "I can read the language. If you wish, I'll translate it."
Then, for the first time, Burton and Carl turned on the Englishman and took his measure.
A CLUE IN HINDOOSTANEE.
"Who are you, my friend?" inquired Burton bluntly.
"A friend of Motor Matt," replied Twomley easily. "He'll vouch for me, I fancy."
"Mr. Twomley, attach? of the British Legation at Washington, Burton," said Matt. "Mr. Burton," Matt added to the Englishman, "is the proprietor of the show. The other lad is Carl Pretzel, who is also a chum of mine. We can talk over this matter before them. Carl had everything to do with the finding of Margaret Manners, back there at Lafayette."
"Aw," drawled Twomley, screwing his monocle in his eye, and regarding the Dutch boy, "he's the claimant for that thousand pounds reward, I dare say."
Tremors of excitement ran galloping through Carl.
"Haf you prought der money?" he fluttered. "Vas you looking for me to pay ofer dot rewart?"
"I am sorry to say that I haven't brought the money. That matter is still in abeyance."
"He means the matter is still pending, Carl," put in Matt. "In other words, you haven't got the money yet."
"I know dot, aber vill I ged it? Dot's vat gifs me some vorries."
"The rajah's a regular topper," said Twomley. "He'd never miss a thousand pounds, and I fancy he'll do the right thing."
"Mooch opliged," breathed Carl, in deep satisfaction. "It vas a habbiness to know dot I ged him some dime."
"Now, if you wish," went on Twomley, stretching out his hand for the letter.
"Just a moment, Mr. Twomley," said Matt. "We don't know much about this letter, and I'd like to find out where and how Carl got it, and what the dispute is about."
The Dutch boy launched into an explanation, beginning with the Roman candle and ending at the place where Burton refused to turn the letter over to Wily Bill. Carl touched but lightly on the culpability of Ping in the matter of the Roman candle. In this he was wise. Motor Matt's orders were to the effect that there should be no bickering between the Dutch boy and the Chinese lad. They had been at swords' points for a long while and had only recently developed a friendly feeling for each other.
"I always sized up that Wily Bill for a false alarm," remarked McGlory. "Can he read that Hindoostanee lingo? I'll bet my spurs he can't! If that's the case, what's he doing with the letter?"
"He must have wanted it a whole lot," said Matt, "or he wouldn't have made such a fight to get it. Perhaps the letter itself will be a clue. Tell us what's in it, Mr. Twomley," and Matt passed the letter to the Englishman.
The latter studied the sheet with absorbed attention. Finally he sprang up.
"What's the matter?" inquired Matt.
"This is luck! Just fancy such a clue coming into our hands at this very moment when it is most needed. Aw, it's--aw--incredible."
"You might give us a chance to pass judgment on that, Mr. Twomley," returned Burton. "Maybe it's not so incredible as you seem to think."
"It was written by Ben Ali," said the attach?.
"Who's it for?" spoke up Matt. "Has Bill Wily any right to it?"
"The name of Wily doesn't appear anywhere in the writing," answered Twomley. "In fact, the letter's addressed to a fellow named Dhondaram."
Here was another hot shot. Both McGlory and Matt were brought excitedly to their feet.
"Dhondaram!" growled Burton, with an expressive glance at the king of the motor boys. "I thought we'd heard the last of that villain."
"Who was he?" demanded Twomley.
"So I gather from the name."
"He blew into the show grounds with a cobra and a home-made flute, when we were at Jackson, and I gave him Ben Ali's place as driver of our man-killin' elephant, Rajah. Oh, he did a lot of things, Dhondaram did. We captured him, but he got loose and dropped off the train between stations."
"Aw, Ben Ali didn't know that," reflected Twomley. "Ben Ali must have thought he was still with the show, and sent this letter to him."
"What does the letter say?" asked Matt, with some impatience.
Add to tbrJar First Page Next Page