THE IMPORTANT LETTER.
"It looks as though we'd have to get away from here this afternoon,
Harris," said Matt. "Hagenmyer just sent us word he's going to begin
tearing down the balloon house in the morning."
"Good!" exclaimed the officer, with satisfaction. "This old roost can't
be knocked to pieces any too quick. It has witnessed many a lawless act
on the part of Brady and his gang, and if these old walls could speak
they'd tell us of many a crime. Are you and your chums going to try to
get to New York with the Hawk, Matt?"
"Yes."
"It's quite a long trip. I know, from experience, that the Hawk will do
well on a short voyage, but will she hold out for such a long journey
as that?"
"I don't see why she won't, if she's carefully handled."
"But in bad weather? You can't figure on having sunshine and mild
breezes all the way, you know, Matt. I've never seen the Hawk tried out
in a stiff gale."
"If the gale was too strong, we'd have to come down, anchor, and put up
our canvas shelter."
"If anyone could make a success of such a flight, I guess you're the
boy. Will you help out the authorities by taking the Hawk so far away
that Brady can't have any designs on her?"
"Of course, Harris," said Matt, "we'll do whatever you think is right,
but before we leave I think we ought to do something for Helen Brady."
"The Chicago police are hard at work on her case, and you can trust
them to do whatever can be done."
"Well," went on Matt, "we'll have to stay here until Carl gets back
from the city. He's gone there after an important letter, and I've a
hunch it may be from Miss Brady."
Harris opened his eyes at this, and Matt explained about the telegram
from the Lestrange people. The officer shook his head.
"There's not much ground for thinking that letter is from Miss Brady,"
said he. "Probably it's some one who has heard about your air-ship
work, and wants to hire the Hawk, or to charter her. What you've been
doing in the aeronautical line, Matt, has aroused a good deal of
interest all over the country. It's the first time, so far as I know,
that an air ship has ever been used practically. First, Brady used the
Hawk in his thieving operations, and next you used her to bring two of
the gang and some of their booty from Willoughby's swamp. Your last
exploit, in which you made an air-ship trip across Lake Michigan in
Jerrold's machine, the Eagle, captured the Hawk and returned safely
with her, seems to have caused more talk than anything else you have
done. No, you can take my word for it, that important letter is from
some enthusiast who wants to buy the Hawk, or to hire her. If you lads
wanted to sell the air ship, you could realize at least four times what
you paid for the craft. Not a bad 'spec,' eh?"
"She ain't for sale, messmate," spoke up Ferral. "She may be for sale,
after awhile, but we want to have a little fun with her first. Eh,
Matt?"
"That's right, Dick," answered Matt. "Aside from the fun, too, I want
to learn all I can about the air-ship business. You never can tell when
knowledge of that kind will come handy."
"There you are!" laughed Harris. "You never saw a boy with such a
grasping disposition whenever there's anything to be learned. I'm going
to stay right here with you and make myself comfortable until Carl gets
back from Chicago. You've got me all worked up about that letter, and
I'll have to see what it amounts to."
The officer peeled off his long coat and made himself at ease on a box
in the shade of the balloon house.
"It beats all," he remarked, after a pause, "how Brady ever succeeded
in getting out of the 'pen.'"
"Haven't you heard how he accomplished that?" queried Matt.
"The details haven't been given out--even the newspapers haven't got
them. If Brady ever got another chance at you, Matt, he wouldn't halt
at any halfway measures. He's right in laying his capture, and most of
his troubles, to you, and we all know that he has a disposition like a
rattlesnake. You've got to look out for him."
Matt would have given a good deal to know just how much Harris was
thinking of his safety, and just how much he was considering the help
the authorities would receive by having the Hawk removed from that
part of the country. He put the question point-blank, and the officer
averred that he was thinking entirely of the recapture of Brady.
"Is the Hawk in shape for a get-away?" he asked.
"She's been ready for a week," replied the young motorist. "There's
enough gasoline in the tank to carry her at least three hundred miles,
and we have a reserve supply stowed in the car that will carry her that
much farther. The bag is full of gas, and Mr. Jerrold has equipped us
with a balloonet, or inner bag, that will keep the buoyancy the same
in any temperature. The balloonet is filled with something of his own
invention--a vapor of some sort that contracts as the gas in the outer
bag expands, and that expands as the gas contracts. Not only that, but
Mr. Jerrold gave the bag a coat of some sort of varnish which makes it
almost proof against leakage, and we figure that we could travel some
thousands of miles before it would be necessary to visit a gas plant."
"Jerrold is a mighty good friend of yours, Matt," observed Harris.
"It's not everybody he'd give the benefit of his own inventions."
"He's one of the greatest men of the age," declared the young motorist,
with enthusiasm, "and he's doing more to put aëronautics on a
commercial and practical basis than any other inventor in the country."
For an hour or two Harris and Matt talked on technical points connected
with air ships, and the two finally went into the balloon house so that
Matt could point out the improvements which his friend, Jerrold, had
helped make in the Hawk.
Most of all this was worse than Greek to Ferral, and he yawned as he
listened, and remained behind when his chum and the officer went inside
the huge shed. Leaning against the board wall behind him, Ferral dozed,
and it was only when a shout reached him from the road that he realized
that Carl was coming.
When Ferral turned his gaze in the direction from which the shout had
come, Carl was just clambering over the fence.
"Ahoy, Matt!" yelled Ferral, starting to his feet, and wide awake on
the instant. "Here's our Dutch raggie! It's hard on the stroke of eight
bells and he's made the round trip just as I thought he would."
In response to the hail, Matt and Harris came hurrying out of the shed.
By that time Carl was half way between the road and the balloon house.
"Did you get the letter all right, Carl?" asked Matt, as soon as the
Dutch boy had come close.
"You bed my life!" whooped Carl. "Don'd I chenerally ged vatefer I go
afder, Matt?"
"It isn't often you fall down, and that's a fact."
"It wasn't much of a job, anyhow," laughed Ferral, "going after
something that was waiting for you."
"I vent so kevick as I got pack," continued Carl, drawing the letter
from his pocket, "und dot's vere I shine. Motor Matt say for me to
do somet'ing, und I do him like chain lighdings. Dere you vas. He's
atressed to Misder Motor Matt, care oof der Lestrange Garage, und down
in vone gorner iss der vort 'imbortant.' My nerfs vas all in some
flutters to know vat iss on der insite."
Matt took the letter and tore it open; then, for the benefit of Harris
and Ferral and Carl, he read it aloud.
"'MOTOR MATT: You are a friend of Helen Brady's, and the writer knows
that she is in grave peril. She can be rescued, but it can only be
by means of your air ship, the Hawk, and the work will have to be
done quietly. I am one of the detectives from headquarters, and my
attention is so completely taken up with the case that I can't leave
where I am to call and see you personally, but if you want to help
rescue the girl, you will follow these instructions:
"'Between La Grange and the town of Gary, not many miles from South
Chicago, there's an abandoned stone quarry. You can't miss it, as it
is on the Drainage Canal, and the limestone in the bottom of the
quarry will look like a white patch on the earth from the air ship.
Bring the Hawk to the quarry at ten o'clock to-night, descending on
the edge of the Canal. I will be there to meet you. Don't come before
night, for, if the Hawk is seen, we will have all our trouble for
our pains. And keep mum about what you are doing, for if you were to
talk, the information might reach those who have the girl in charge
and thus prevent our success. Can I count on you? I am figuring that
you will receive this letter Tuesday, and come to the quarry Tuesday
night; but, if you don't receive this until Wednesday, come Wednesday
night. DAVE GLENNIE.'"
"Egol!" muttered Harris. "That's a peculiar letter, and no mistake. But
it rings true. Besides, I know Glennie, and he's the best detective at
the city headquarters."
"I had hoped that this might be from Miss Brady herself," said Matt.
"The girl is probably where she can't write. Glennie knows what he's
about. He has asked you to come and told you how to get to the place,
so if you want to help Miss Brady, Matt, you'll go."
"Will you come along with us, Harris?"
Harris shook his head.
"It wouldn't do for me to butt in on a bit of work that Glennie's
pulling off--it would look too much as though I was trying to 'hog'
some of the honor. Glennie would resent it, and he'd be perfectly right
in doing so. He has laid his plans and the thing for you to do is to
help carry them out."
"But you know the country better than any the rest of us. We'll be
able to find the quarry, all right, when we get over it, but it may
bother us some to find La Grange. You see, we'll have to work at night,
and----"
"That will be easy, Matt," interrupted Harris, "if you find the canal
and then follow it until you get to the quarry. I'll show you how to
reach the canal, and after that you will have plain sailing."
The officer gave the instructions. After he was through, the finding of
the quarry seemed a simple enough matter.
It was eight o'clock in the evening before the boys got the Hawk out of
the shed for the start. Harris had stayed with them up to that time.
He watched while the young motorist and his chums got into the car and
glided upward to a humming accompaniment of the motor's cylinders.
"Good-by and good luck!" yelled Harris, in answer to the parting hail
that came to him from the dusky blot overhead.
Harris, after he had returned to headquarters to report, called up the
Chicago police department. It was merely by an afterthought and not
because he anticipated finding anything wrong.
"This is Harris, of South Chicago, talking," said he, as soon as his
call was answered. "Where's Dave Glennie?"
"Right here in the office, Harris. If you----"
Harris staggered back and almost dropped the receiver.
"What!" he demanded.
"Glennie's here in the office," repeated the man at the other end of
the line. "If you want to talk to him I'll call him."
"You bet I do want to talk to him! Tell him to hustle to the phone."
Glennie must have "hustled," for in less than a minute he was at the
phone, saying hello, and asking what was wanted.
"Did you write a letter to Motor Matt and send it to him in care of the
Lestrange Garage, there in Chicago?"
"What would I want to write a letter to Motor Matt for?" demanded the
detective.
"I'll keep it quiet, if you did. All I want's to get at the truth."
"I've given you the truth, Harris."
"You've been working on that Helen Brady case, haven't you?"
"Sure, but my hands are in the air. Everybody's hands are in the air.
It's the strangest case you ever heard of, and there's absolutely no
trace----"
Harris tossed the receiver onto the hooks and staggered away from the
phone. What sort of underhand work was going on? Motor Matt and his
chums were running right into trouble, and Harris realized that he had
helped to start them on the way.
"An automobile!" he muttered, hurrying out of the headquarters'
building. "I've got to have a fast one and get to that old quarry
before ten o'clock. Egol, this is the worst thing I ever went up
against!"