THE MAN IN THE LOCKER.
"Are you joking, Frank?" asked Billy, though he should have known his
comrade better than to believe Frank would try to play any silly trick
for the sake of giving them a thrill.
Pudge opened his mouth, but for a wonder even one of his queer favorite
expressions failed to drop from his lips. In fact, Pudge was rendered
temporarily speechless by the astounding nature of Frank's
communication.
"Not at all, Billy," said the other, trying to act as though he might be
telling them something of small importance. "I watched while I was
sheltered under the plane, and twice I saw it shake a little as though
some one might be holding the door ajar so as to hear better."
"Door!" echoed Billy helplessly, as though more puzzled than ever.
"The door of the empty locker we thought we might need for storing
things away, but which has never been used," Frank explained.
"Gee whillikins! now I understand what you mean, Frank," said Billy.
"There is plenty of room in that locker to hold a man curled up."
"Popguns and pyramids, but how could he ever get there when we've been
sitting around all morning?" asked Pudge, in a hoarse whisper.
"Only in one way," Frank told him. "Before they left here last night
they must have fixed him there in the locker, believing we'd be back
again sooner or later, when some information of value might be picked
up."
"Oh! my stars, Frank," Billy ejaculated huskily. "What if, after all,
he's heard enough talk here to guess about that big raid?"
Frank looked very serious.
"It's true that we've been pretty careful," he said, "and most of the
time just whispered while we talked about it; but all the same a man
with the ears of a spy might have picked up enough to arouse suspicions,
and once that's done the rest would come easy."
"What can we do about it, Frank?" asked Billy.
"Our good friend, the Major, has extended the invitation to us so that
in a way I feel we're responsible for the secret being kept," Frank went
on to say, as though he might be revolving certain conditions in his
mind before deciding.
On hearing him say that Billy began to work the muscles of his right
arm, at the same time opening and closing his fingers, as though eager
to clutch something.
"I agree with you, Frank," he hastened to say. "The great secret has
been placed in our keeping, and for one I would feel pretty small if it
leaked out through any fault of ours. We've got to cage that spy as sure
as you live."
"Punkins and partridges, that's right!" muttered Pudge, who, while not
as a rule pugnaciously inclined, could nevertheless assume what he was
pleased to call his "fighting face" when occasion arose.
"I'm glad to find both of you are of the same mind," Frank said. "The
only question is to decide what our plan of campaign shall be."
"P'r'aps some of those Tommies in khaki would be only too glad of a
chance to step in and collar the spy?" suggested Pudge.
"But there are three of us here," objected Billy, "and I don't see why
we should want to call on the soldiers for such a little thing. After
we've grabbed Mr. Spy and have got him tied up it will be time enough to
figure on handing him over to the authorities."
"That's what's worrying me," admitted Frank.
"About handing him over, do you mean?" Billy demanded.
"Well, you know what the fate of a spy always is," the other said. "We
are supposed to be neutral in this war business. No matter whether our
sympathy lies with Belgium, Germany, or France, we've got to try and
treat them as much alike as we can. Our company has been negotiating
with the French Government for a long time, now, over this contract, and
so, of course, we have to favor them if anybody; but boys, not one of us
would like to feel that we were the cause of a spy being shot or
hanged."
"Oh well, we could kick him off the place after we got him out, Frank,"
suggested Pudge so aggressively that Billy chuckled, and started to
smooth the fat chum down the back, just as one might a pugnacious
rooster who was boiling with a desire to plunge into carnage.
"That sounds all right," Frank told him; "but you forget the one
important thing. He has some knowledge of this raid, and if we let him
go it may mean a great disaster to the fleet of seaplanes taking part in
the dash up the coast."
"Whew! looks like we might be what my father would say was between the
upper and the nether millstones," remarked Billy.
"Gatling guns and grasshoppers," Pudge added, "my father would go
further than that, I guess, and say we were between the devil and the
deep sea. But Frank, you're the one to decide that question. What shall
we do?"
"There is a way," Frank announced, "by which we could settle it so the
man wouldn't fall into the hands of the military authorities, who would
execute him, and at the same time he could be kept from betraying what
he may have learned."
"Glad to hear it," said Pudge; "because I don't want to know I've been
instrumental in standing a poor fellow up before a file, and getting him
filled with cold lead. Tell us about it, please, Frank."
"After we've captured the man we'll get word to the civil authorities,
saying we've caught a thief in our hangar, and asking them to keep him
safe for two or three days. I'll go and see the Major myself, and get
him to promise that the man will be treated only as a thief and not as a
spy."
"You've guessed the answer, Frank," announced Pudge, with the enthusiasm
he always showed when the leader of the aviator boys blazed a trail out
of some wilderness in which they had lost themselves.
"Then the sooner we get busy the better," hinted Billy, again working
that good right arm of his as though it might be rapidly getting beyond
his restraint.
"We have no firearms, though," suggested Pudge.
"There's no need of any," Frank told him. "I'll hold this wrench in a
way that'll make it seem like a six-shooter. The rest of you can help
pile on the man when we drag him out of the locker, either feet or head
first, it doesn't matter which."
"Just give me a chance to sit on him, that's all!" threatened Pudge, at
which Billy could be heard to chuckle, as though he pitied anyone who
went through that far from enviable experience; perhaps Billy knew from
his own associations with Pudge what such an operation meant.
"Now, here's the way we'll fix it," began Frank. "I'll step over again
to the other side of the hangar to work at the motors of the _Sea
Eagle_. Pretty soon you'll hear me calling to you both to come around
and see what a clever little arrangement I've fixed up."
"Which will, in other words, mean the fun is about to begin?" commented
Billy.
"When you join me," continued Frank, "we'll jabber for a minute, during
which I'll say we might as well go to town and get something decent to
eat at noon. That will be apt to put him off his guard. Then we'll all
tiptoe over to the locker, and at a signal throw the door open. As soon
as you glimpse him, take hold, and start to pulling like a house afire.
That will keep him from trying to fight back or use his weapon, for I
guess he'll have a gun of some kind. Understand it all, boys?"
"Go on, Frank. Please don't wait any longer than you have to," pleaded
Billy.
So Frank, a minute or two later, called to them to come and see what a
splendid little change he had made in the gear of the deflecting rudder
of the big seaplane.
It was a thrilling moment for the three boys when they began to move in
the direction of the locker where Frank believed a spy had taken refuge
many hours previously. As he had suggested, they walked on their
tiptoes, each fastening his eager gaze upon the door which they expected
to presently pull suddenly open.
When they had taken up their positions according to Frank's plan, he
gave the expected signal.
"Now, everybody!"
The locker door was dragged open in spite of the fact that something
seemed to be clinging desperately to it from the inside. No sooner had
this been accomplished than the boys, stooping, seized hold of the
doubled-up figure they could see in the cavity under the bench, and
started to drag with might and main.
[Illustration: "Don't try to draw a gun or you are a dead man!"--Page
125.]
Although the man in hiding made a powerful effort to resist the pressure
brought to bear upon him, he was hardly in a position to do much.
They dragged him out, squirming like a rat taken by the tail, and trying
to hold on to every object, however small, as a drowning man will catch
at a straw. No sooner was he in full view than Pudge dropped down on his
back with all his force.
A dismal groan announced that the breath had been pretty well driven
from the spy's lungs; and before he could recover his wits enough to try
and produce any weapon Frank clapped the end of his wrench against his
temple while he called out in very commanding tones:
"Don't try to draw a gun or you are a dead man! I've got you covered,
and will pull the trigger if you so much as move a hand!"
Having in this manner caused the prisoner to behave, Frank hastily
searched his pockets and confiscated a stubby little revolver which he
found there. Then he told Billy to tie the man's wrists together,
placing them behind his back, with a stout piece of tarred rope that lay
within convenient reaching distance.
"Now he's helpless, and we can let him get to his feet if we want," said
Billy; but Frank thought otherwise.
"It's better to be on the safe side," he observed. "So use the balance
of the rope around his ankles, Billy. I want to leave you two here while
I go to town and make arrangements through Major Nixon to have the man
held simply as a thief and not as a spy. I'd like to know he couldn't
get away."
They found that he was rather a small man, with a cunning face. He did
not look very much like a German, and possibly had been picked out for
his hazardous pursuit on that very account.
To their surprise he addressed them in the best of English.
"I am an American citizen, you must know, and I have the papers to prove
it. My name is Hans Larsen and I came from Sweden many years ago."
"Oh! is that so?" remarked Frank, who had lately read that many Germans
across the sea had been able to secure the naturalization papers
belonging to others in order to cross to Sweden or Italy without being
taken prisoner by the English naval men, and Frank rightly guessed the
spy had fortified himself in that way so as to have some means for
escaping death in case of capture.
"Then what were you doing hidden in that locker?" demanded Billy.
"I have no money, and I was hungry," said the man. "I came here to pick
up something I could sell for a few sous, and get some bread. Then I
heard voices and afraid to be seen I crawled under there. Let me go and
I shall never bother you again."
Billy laughed in his face.
"They say a lame excuse is better than none," he remarked, "but when
Frank pulled that fierce-looking gun out of your pocket I saw a bright
coin fall to the floor. Here it is, and a gold coin in the bargain. An
English sovereign at that. I wonder why anyone should go hungry long in
Dunkirk these days with all that money in his pocket? Don't try to trick
us, my man. We know why you were hidden in that locker, and you don't
need to be told what a spy can expect when caught in the act."
The man shut his teeth hard together, and gave a little groan, but said
nothing. He evidently expected that the fate he may have dared so often
had at last found him out.