Read Ebook: The Sanitary Condition of the Poor in Relation to Disease Poverty and Crime With an appendix on the control and prevention of infectious diseases by Baker Benson

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Ebook has 732 lines and 33047 words, and 15 pages

"Funny we never heard a word from that 'A. W. Kull, Harkville, New York,' if our telegram was ever delivered there," said Worth, thinking aloud, somewhat later. "Let's ask the office here to find out what became of our message. It won't cost anything."

"Oh, gravy! That has nothing to do with us! It's the Six we're after, Bill!" But notwithstanding this objection, the Griffin telegraph office was asked for the information.

The operator kindly offered to send a service message, as it is called, desiring the Harkville office to report on the matter. Harkville replied in due time. The message to "A. W. Kull" was delivered at his residence. Why it was not answered the telegraph people did not know, of course.

During the afternoon the boys also met Chief Fobes. With his stick under his arm, he leaned against a railing at the Bank building, eating peanuts.

"Nothin' doin'," was his reply to their inquiry. "Ain't likely to be," he added, discouragingly. "It ain't our luck, somehow. It may be here or any place around here that something will happen, but of course the gentry don't stay in these smaller places, and it's always in the bigger towns that they're nabbed if they don't get away altogether."

"Oh, yes, I see," said Billy Worth, but when he and Paul had walked on, he remarked: "No, it is not Mr. Fobes' luck to catch anything. I reckon he banks more on luck than he does on work, though."

"'From the standpoint of the law,'" grinned Jones. But then lest he and Worth should fall into the same error, he said briskly, "But come on, Bill, we'll have to hustle if we're going to find anything."

Meanwhile Dave and Phil were approaching Albany. On the train they mapped out their general plan of work. Phil was to interview the police officials while Dave made inquiries at the headquarters of the automobile club. Then, together, they would visit the central garages. The outlying establishments they would call up by telephone, they decided. Surely, every automobile, stolen or otherwise, must have gasoline. Somewhere, then, it might be reasonably expected, trace of the Big Six would surely be discovered.

It seems likely, and probably is true, that the boys failed to appreciate the great number of cars constantly going and coming through all such large cities as Albany, Buffalo, Cleveland and the like. Living in a much smaller place, where tourists from a distance, especially those with licenses from other states, were quickly noticed, they did not understand that machines from far and near are so numerous upon the great motor thoroughfares that they attract scarcely passing notice.

Disappointment followed disappointment as Phil and Dave pursued their task. The fact that the police department had a perfect description of their car and the assurance of the lieutenant, with whom Phil talked, that every patrolman had the number of the stolen machine, were the only bits of encouragement they found.

"Didn't ye have insurance against theft?" asked a pleasant young fellow at a new garage not far from the capitol. "Ought to have a fire and theft insurance policy," he declared, "then you let someone else do the worrying."

"Too late to think of it now, I'm afraid," said Phil with a forlorn smile.

"That's true enough," said the other, "but I was just thinking how lucky a fellow considers himself when he does have insurance in a case of this kind. There was an illustration of it up state just this spring. Man had a new car. Used it just a little, over winter. In April it was stolen and it never was found. He got a check for pretty nearly all he paid for it because he had insurance. He didn't have to lose any sleep, you see."

"Also, you may be able to sell him another car, because he has the money to pay for one," suggested Dave, his eyes twinkling.

"Now you're trying to jolly me," returned the young man good-humoredly. "But I didn't mean it that way. Fact is, the man was away up at Harkville--'way out of our territory for Torpedoes."

"Hello, now!" exclaimed Way, eagerly. "Was there a Torpedo stolen in Harkville, recently?"

"Not lately. Two months ago," the other answered.

"Who lost it?" And again Way glanced sharply at Dave. The latter was listening to every word but taking care to betray no unusual interest.

If the young man thought that in this question he guessed the reason for Phil's wish to know more of the incident mentioned, he guessed wrong, of course. But unwilling to tell just why he was interested, until he should have had time to think, Phil gave him no enlightenment.

"No," answered Way, "the Torpedo people don't build a six-cylinder car, do they?"

"That's right, yours was a six," said the other. "Makes you so much the greater loser, with no insurance."

"What luck did the Harkville man have finding his car? Someone must have looked for it even if he did have insurance."

"Strange!" muttered Phil, but he was thinking too, that, though this was exceedingly interesting information, he must not allow it to take his thoughts from the loss that meant so much more to himself and friends, personally. So, thanking the young man, he and Dave left the garage.

"Why didn't you tell him about the Torpedo? She's the Harkville car as sure as you're born!" spoke MacLester, immediately the two were beyond hearing.

"It might have done no harm, and again--there's the trouble! I wanted to talk it over with you. It seems small and mean, but still we didn't pay out railroad fare and all that to help find the owner of that Torpedo. We wired Kull and did our part. He may be in Griffin right now to claim the property."

"More likely he doesn't care. He got insurance money, so why bother any more about it? That would explain the whole thing--the whole reason why our telegram was never answered," Dave reasoned.

"It looks that way," Phil replied. "And our chasing the Torpedo is chasing right away from the car we want to find. Blame it all! We don't seem to get anywhere. Here we go stumbling into things about the Torpedo but no clues at all to the Six!" All of which, and the disgruntled tone, were both unusual words and manner in young Mr. Way.

The day had long since closed. The boys found a comfortable hotel and went to bed, leaving a call for half-past five as the train for Pittsfield left Albany at six-thirty. The distance was not great and as several important automobile routes branched out from the Massachusetts town, it was considered a likely source of information.

Tired as they were, Phil and Dave must and did discuss at length the day's developments before they fell asleep. A sense of duty that they should report at once the apparent fact that they had found the stolen Harkville car, weighed somewhat upon their minds.

"But what if we do? What happens?" they reasoned. "We are put out just that much in hunting for the Six. We lose time being called as witnesses, and a lot of botheration, just when we need every minute, and nothing much is gained. A few days will make no difference with regard to the Torpedo, long ago given up as beyond recovery."

And so resolving to stick to the more important business first, but to report the finding of the stolen Harkville car just so soon as details of identification and the law's red tape would not be so inconvenient, they put the subject aside.

Thanks to Chief Fobes, in part, and also thanks to their own error, in part, the boys were making a costly mistake by believing the trail of the Torpedo had no connection with the theft of their own car. Or so it would seem, would it not? And yet, even if the thieves who first stole the Harkville car were the same who, later on, made off with the Big Six, what could be gained by going back along the route to deliver the one recovered machine instead of pursuing diligently the more recently stolen property?

"We'll never see our car again; that I know," said Dave MacLester, glum and despondent. He pulled on his shoes in the stuffy little hotel room next morning, as if life were to him a barren, barren waste.

"It's mostly the time of day, Mack," said Way good-humoredly. "Half-past five has a mighty blue appearance after you've been eating strange grub, and staying up till midnight the day before. You'll brighten up like the shining sun if we can only get out where there is such a thing--that and get hold of a little news to-day."

And his words were the truth, cold and harsh, as the truth may sometimes be, beyond a doubt.

MR. BILLY WORTH DOES SOME THINKING

"Hello! What's all the feverish bustle about? Good news, I hope!"

This from Mr. Wagg as Billy and Paul, very warm and very red, hustled into that gentleman's hotel and suddenly stopped, as if they had at that moment forgotten what they came for.

"No,--not exactly," said Billy. "Fact is, we have no news at all and it just makes us feel that we've got to get busy; and that's what we've been doing--hustling up here as hard as ever we could."

"What for? What scent are you on now?" asked the landlord, peering over his glasses as he leaned upon the register counter. There was a trace of amusement in his voice.

"Well, I suppose that nothing succeeds like determination," observed Mr. Wagg kindly. "Still, there's a lot o' misdirected energy in the world." With a sigh he sat down and resumed the afternoon nap which the swift entrance of the boys had broken in upon.

A large part of Griffin seemed to be occupied quite as was Landlord Wagg. How very quiet the little town was this tranquil June afternoon!

"Ginger! I'd just like to take a nap myself; but we've got to keep busy," mused Billy. The two were seated in big armchairs of the hotel office.

"Our basket, Willie Creek's lamp and that old raincoat are in our room. Mr. Hipp brought them and the porter carried them up. Told me so just after dinner," suggested Paul. "We might tote Willie's lamp over to the garage."

Straightway up the stairs dashed the two boys. Yes, there at the foot of the bed the articles in question were deposited. Again the boys examined the lunch hamper inside and out. Again they searched pockets, lining, every shred of the muddy, dirty, wrinkled coat.

How freshly the garment, splashed with the rain and the thick pools of the road, brought back to Billy's mind the dismal afternoon when first they ventured upon the lonely South Fork! Again, in mental vision, he saw the Torpedo come over the hill, saw the impossibility of passing the machine if it did not quickly turn out! Then he recalled--how vividly!--the dreadful scene, the Big Six ditched, the rain, the heavy, mist-laden air, the gloom, of approaching darkness.

Quite naturally young Mr. Jones looked up suddenly, startled not a little by the extraordinary accusation.

Paul's intended response was violently interrupted. Knocking his own head with one pair of knuckles, Billy brought those of his other hand down forcibly on his friend's tawny hair, at the same time and not once, but repeatedly.

Not until Jones escaped beyond reach, which he did by tumbling ungracefully backward over a chair, as he retreated from the mysterious attack, did Worth explain himself.

"That man--the drunken fellow we saw Fobes arrest on Saturday night--you remember? He's the fellow who wore this raincoat, stole our basket and--who knows?--maybe the car! Plain as daylight! Why didn't we see it before? The cap, the leather leggins all caked with mud--I couldn't see it all plainer if he stood in this very room!"

For a few seconds Paul was lost in a confusion of thoughts, but he extricated himself at last, saying:

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