A SURPRISE AT HOOLIGAN'S.
Instructed by Brady, who knelt on the floor of the car and watched
keenly as they traveled through the air, Matt brought the Hawk down in
a vacant lot back of a high billboard.
The houses in the neighborhood were dark, as it was after midnight, and
the vague bulk of the gas bag, looming over the top of the billboard,
would hardly have claimed the attention of any chance passerby on the
sidewalk. At that hour, too, there were not liable to be any travelers
in the street. The Hawk carried no lights, and the only noise she made
in descending was caused by the low murmur of the cylinders.
The craft was moored to the supports of the billboard, on one side,
and to a heavy wagon on the other. The wagon was a truck, and it was
evidently the owner's custom to leave it over night in the lot.
"I got the lay of the land when I came in here from the quarry,"
explained Brady, in a low voice, "and I had just such an emergency as
this in mind. Directly across the alley is Hooligan's house. If you
want to reconnoitre, King, go ahead, but I'd advise you to be careful,
for Whipple would be quick to use a knife or a revolver on you if he
got the chance."
"I'll look out for Whipple," answered Matt confidently. "The chances
are, you know, that they're not there. We left them out by the canal,
and I don't think they have had time to get here yet, if they walked
out to the old quarry."
"We don't want to take any chance, Matt," said Ferral, "of those two
swabs getting next to us here. There'd be a pretty kettle of fish if
they find us, use their guns, and then make off with the air ship--and
Brady."
"While I'm gone," returned Matt, impressed with Ferral's reasoning,
"you and Carl will have to be on your guard. You'd better go to the
end of the billboard, Carl, and watch the street. You can keep your
eye on the alley, Dick. If Pete and Whipple happen to show up before I
get back, and you think the Hawk is in any danger, cut loose and sail
away--never mind me. You can hover around and pick me up later."
"I don'd like dot, Matt," said Carl. "Meppy I pedder go mit you, hey?
You vill be in more tanger as der air ship, I bed you."
"I'm not going to get into any danger, and it's the Hawk we've got to
be sure of beyond everything else. You remember how anxious Harris was
to keep her out of the hands of any of Brady's gang? Well, we don't
want to lose the Hawk, and we don't want to cheat justice by letting
Pete and Whipple get hold of her. I don't think there's much chance of
the scoundrels showing up, but it's well to be on the safe side. If
Mrs. Hooligan is alone there, when I come back I'll have Miss Brady;
then we can get a policeman or two and have them lie in wait for Pete
and Whipple when they come. I see how, if luck is with us, we can wind
this whole matter up, right here. Brady's advice was good in having us
come directly here without losing any time. Now, I'm----"
Matt paused. To his ears there came the popping of a motor just getting
into action. The noise was followed by a steady hum of cylinders,
getting down to work. The hum grew low in the distance and finally died
out.
"Dere's a pubble!" muttered Carl.
"In the street on the other side of Hooligan's," said Matt. "It's
getting so you can hear automobiles at any time of the day or night."
"But Hooligan's house faces a street where no one lives that's able to
own an automobile," spoke up Brady.
"Somebody else who doesn't live on the street is going through."
"The machine had stopped. When we heard it it was just starting.
Besides, it's a poor street, and no machine would come that way unless
the driver blundered into the thoroughfare. I don't like it. Hurry up,
King, and find out what's going on, if you can."
Matt lost no more time, but gained the alley, climbed a rickety fence
on the other side, and stood in the back yard of the Hooligan home.
The house was a small, one-story affair, shabby even in that faint
light, and the back yard was waist high with weeds. It was quite plain
that Hooligan's being away in summer was a bad thing for his home place.
Matt approached the house cautiously and went completely around it.
There was no light anywhere, and no sounds came from within.
"Mrs. Hooligan has probably gone to bed," he thought. "If I was
absolutely sure that Pete and Whipple had not got back, I'd rap on the
door and try to get in in that way."
While it seemed reasonable to suppose that the two rascals were still
absent from the place, yet Matt did not want to run the risk of trouble
by pounding on the door for Mrs. Hooligan.
To get a policeman might have been the best plan, but Matt was none too
sure of his ground, inclined though he was to put implicit faith in
Brady's information.
"I'll get in, if I can, and look around," he finally concluded. "The
Hooligans might have a case against me for house-breaking, but I'll
take a chance. Besides, if what Brady says is true, we've got a bigger
case against the Hooligans than they can possibly get against me."
Softly he tried the front door. As he had imagined, it was locked.
Then he tried the kitchen door, but with no better result. After that
he passed completely around the building endeavoring to raise one of
the windows. The windows, like the doors, were secured. This seemed
strange, inasmuch as it was a warm night and just the time windows
should be open to admit the air.
With his pocket knife Matt succeeded in pushing aside the fastening
between the upper and lower sash of a window at the side of the house.
He listened for a moment to see if his work had been detected by anyone
in the building. Hearing nothing to arouse his apprehension, he pushed
up the window and climbed into the dark room beyond.
Silence reigned all around him. Taking a match from his pocket, he
struck it and surveyed the room.
It was a bedroom. The bed was not disturbed, although the coverlet and
pillow bore the imprint of a human form, as though some one had lain
down on it for a few minutes' rest.
From a nail in the wall hung an article which at once attracted Matt's
attention. It was a small gray shawl, and he at once recalled it as a
shawl which he had seen Helen Brady wear.
Here was fresh proof that Hector Brady had told the truth. Undoubtedly
the girl had been in that house, and that that was the room set aside
for her use. But where was she?
Softly Matt opened a door and stepped through into the kitchen.
There was a pile of dirty dishes on a table, and other evidences
that the kitchen had been recently used. But there was no one there,
and no sounds came to Matt to tell him that there was anyone, apart
from himself, in the house. An open door admitted him into what was
undoubtedly the main living room. There was some disorder apparent, as
though those who had been in the house had left hastily.
A heavy disappointment ran through the young motorist. Helen Brady had
been there, but she had been taken away! He was too late.
While he stood in the centre of the living room, a flickering match
in his fingers, he heard something that sent his pulses to a faster
beat. A faint sound as of stifled breathing came to him. There was one
more room he had not examined, and it opened off the one in which he
was standing. The choking respiration apparently reached him from this
unseen chamber.
What lay beyond the closed door he did not know, but he had gone too
far to retreat. If Pete and Whipple were there, and if they were
waiting for him----
But that thought did not dismay him. He was thinking of Helen Brady,
and hoping against hope that she was still in the house.
He let the match flicker out and, in the darkness, stepped to the
door and pushed it open. The breathing was more distinct, but, apart
from the person who caused the sound, there was no one else in the
room. Matt lighted another match, and started back with an astounded
exclamation.
On the floor, almost at his feet, lay Harris! He was bound, wrist
and ankle, and a handkerchief gag was twisted between his jaws. The
policeman's wide-open eyes were rolling, and he was doing his utmost to
talk.
As soon as he had recovered himself somewhat, Matt stepped to a
washstand and lighted a lamp that stood there; then, going down on his
knees, he proceeded to free the officer of his bonds and the gag.
"Great Scott!" were the officer's first gasping words as he sat up and
raised both hands to his head, "how, in the name of all that's good, do
_you_ happen to be here?"
"I was just going to ask you the same question," answered the
bewildered Matt.
"Never had such a big surprise in my life!"
"Nor I, either. I came here looking for Helen Brady, but I thought
there was no one at home, and I got through a window. How did you come
here?"
"I was brought here by Pete and Whipple," was the astonishing reply.
"Brought here by Pete and Whipple?" echoed Matt. "Why, we left them out
by the canal and the old quarry."
"Left them there, eh? What happened to you, Matt? I was scared stiff,
on your account, back there in South Chicago. After you left, I called
up police headquarters in the city and asked after Dave Glennie--just
thought I'd make sure I hadn't sent you into trouble. Glennie himself
answered the phone. He hadn't written you any letter and didn't know a
thing about that proposed meeting. I got Graydon, another officer, and
we hustled off in an automobile. Couldn't find you at the quarry, and
while Graydon was looking for you in one direction, and I was nosing
around in another, I was keeled over by Whipple. The two scoundrels
stole the automobile and brought me here. I don't know what the nation
Graydon will think, or---- Ouch, my head! There's a lump on it as
big as my fist, and it feels as though it had been hit with a sledge
hammer. But it's good for sore eyes to see you, Matt, and to find out
that you didn't get into trouble. If you----"
A wild shout came muffled from the distance. It was Carl's voice, and
evidently something was going wrong at the air ship.
"That's Carl!" exclaimed Matt. "Come on, Harris. I've got to get out of
here and see what's up. I left Carl and Dick with the Hawk in a vacant
lot on the other side of the alley."
Without waiting to explain further, Matt whirled and dashed from the
room.