THE KEY TO THE MYSTERY
"What is it?" cried Jack, pressing forward.
"Yes, tell us," demanded Bob and Frank as in one breath.
The three boys crowded around Mr. Temple, who in one hand held the
mass of documents and in the other the letter. He was reading the
latter.
"Boys," said he, "this proves Rollins's complicity in a plot against
us. But it makes matters more puzzling and complicated, too."
"How is that, sir?" Jack inquired.
"Well, first of all," said Mr. Temple, holding up the thick sheaf of
papers, "this is Mr. Hampton's own original list of the leases secured
by the group of independent oil operators to which I belong and which
he represents here in the field."
"Is it a copy of the list I recovered from the thief who stole it from
Mr. Hampton's house on Long Island?" asked Bob.
"No," smiled Mr. Temple. "It is the original. That was the copy. And
this letter with it is one written by Rollins to a man in New York
City who is one of the minor officials of the Oil Trust. It is too
long to read to you. But from it I gather that Rollins is a spy in the
employ of this official."
"Say, Dad," declared Bob, "this is too much for me. If the Octopus is
responsible for our troubles, then where do the Mexicans come in? And
vice versa?"
"That's what I had in mind, Bob, when I said this discovery
complicated matters," said Mr. Temple.
"Sh," warned Jack, from the window toward which he was glancing at
that moment. He sprang forward to see better. "Here comes Mr. Rollins
now. And in a tearing hurry, too."
Rollins jumped from his horse and ran along the porch to his room.
They heard the door slam, and then sounds of a furious searching being
carried on. The boys and Mr. Temple, gathered around the door and
window, looked at each other significantly.
"Found he dropped his papers and came back for them," whispered Frank.
A moment later Rollins called for Gabby Pete from the door of his
room. The cook hurried to him from the kitchen.
"Pete, did I drop an envelope--a long blue envelope--at breakfast?"
asked Rollins, making no attempt to conceal his anxiety.
Before Gabby Pete could reply, Jack stepped impulsively from the
doorway.
"Yes, you did," said he. "Pete gave it to me to keep for you."
"Where is it?" Rollins brusquely demanded.
"Step into my room," said Jack.
Rollins complied. When he saw Mr. Temple, Bob and Frank, he recoiled
as if to flee. But Jack barred the doorway. Rollins was speechless.
Mr. Temple advanced, holding out the document and the letter.
"Your duplicity is discovered, Rollins," he said. "I make no apology
for having opened your sealed envelope, because last night Jack
Hampton discovered you at the radio station with Remedios, and we knew
you were faithless to your trust. Come, make a clean breast of it."
Rollins's face went white.
"You, you read the letter?" he gasped.
Mr. Temple merely nodded.
Rollins seemed to shrink and grow older before their eyes. Suddenly he
sank into a chair. His shoulders sagged. Pressing his hands to his
eyes, he bent forward and began to cry. Not the noisy crying of a
child but great, dry, wrenching sobs.
"Come on, fellows," said Jack in a low voice. "Let's leave him to Mr.
Temple."
The older man nodded approval and the three boys filed out, closing
the door behind them. Simultaneously each drew a long breath of
relief. Bob was the first to speak.
"Dad'll get it out of him," he said
"I'm hungry," said Frank plaintively.
At that moment, Gabby Pete poked his head from the doorway of the
kitchen. Seeing the boys, he called:
"Come an' git it."
The three started on the run for the dining room, their youthful
spirits rebounding from the depressing scene in the room they had just
quit in answer to the tang of a perfect day and the cook's breakfast
call. Bob suddenly halted with an exclamation.
"How about Dad?"
"Oh, he's too busy to miss his breakfast," said Frank. "Anyhow, we can
get the cook to put up something for him."
"Yes, I'll speak to Pete about it," said Jack. "Come on."
They ate hungrily with little conversation. Pete hovered near and his
presence restrained them from talking about the topic that was
uppermost in their minds.
"How about taking a look at the radio plant?" asked Jack when they had
ended breakfast.
The others agreed eagerly. They were in the act of leaving the table
when Mr. Temple appeared. They crowded about him with questions.
"Easy, easy there," he protested. "I'm hungry as a hunter. Suppose
you boys wait outside for me while I get a bite, and then I'll join
you."
When Mr. Temple emerged, he lighted a cigar and leaned against a
pillar. The boys stood about him. For several moments he was silent,
staring out over the expanse of desert to the hills beyond, all
shimmering beneath the heat of the summer sun.
"It's a long story," he began, "but I'll simplify it for you. Rollins
held the key to the mystery. He has a family back East, an invalid
wife, a son in college, a daughter just preparing to enter college.
All that takes money, for doctor bills and school bills and clothes
for the girl. Rollins was a poor man on a salary.
"He needed money and couldn't see his way to getting it. Then a minor
official of the Octopus put temptation in his way by making him a
proposition. Mind you, he wasn't one of the big men of the Oil Trust.
I feel certain they know nothing about all this.
"This man proposed that Rollins obtain certain inside information
about the independent oil operators and sell it to him. Rollins wanted
to, but couldn't get the information. It was too closely guarded by
Mr. Hampton.
"It was then that another temptation came Rollins's way." Mr. Temple
paused. "A weak man seems to carry certain earmarks that draw
scoundrels to him, boys," he said. "It was so with Rollins. At this
moment a representative of Calomares, the Mexican landowner who is
backing the northern rebels, sought him out with a proposition that he
betray his employers. The rebels, as I suspected, wanted to make
trouble for President Obregon, of Mexico, by embroiling him with the
United States. And the way they wanted to set about it was by raiding
the independent oil operators. They needed a spy at our headquarters,
and they proposed that Rollins should become their man.
"Then Rollins had an inspiration. He told the Mexicans that if they
would help him, he would aid them. It was agreed. The agent who had
acted for Calomares in the negotiations was this German, Von Arnheim,
an aviator and a German secret agent in Mexico during the war. He took
the man Morales with him to Mr. Hampton's Long Island home to steal
the duplicate list of independent leases and other data which Rollins
had learned was kept there."
"That's where I came in," grinned Bob.
"Yes," said his father, "and it was because you foiled them that
Rollins came into possession of Mr. Hampton's own original copy of the
list and other data. For he stole it from Mr. Hampton's effects after
Von Arnheim and Morales had carried him away captive in our airplane."
"How about this attack on us yesterday?" asked Jack.
"As you suspected, it was for the purpose of capturing me, too," said
Mr. Temple. "And Rollins had let the bandits know when I would arrive.
Remedios was his go-between."
"Well," said Jack, "there's only one thing more."
"What is that?" asked Frank.
"Why, I'd like to know whom Rollins radioed to last night."
"I found that out, too," said Mr. Temple. "He was talking to the
Calomares ranch in Old Mexico, which has a very powerful station,
according to Rollins. He says the German, Von Arnheim, told him that
there are similar powerful radio stations scattered throughout Mexico
and South America, all built by German money for the use of its spy
system. And he said this German told him the most powerful station of
all was on an island in the Caribbean, and that it was so powerful it
could communicate with Nauen, Germany."
It was apparent that Mr. Temple had concluded his explanation, and Bob
and Frank began to ply him with questions. Jack, however, stood
silent, his face averted. Mr. Temple presently broke from the others
and laying a hand on Jack's shoulder whirled him about.
"Father?" asked he, in a kindly tone.
"Yes, sir."
"Well, Jack, I've got the beginnings of a plan in mind. But first I
must get more information from Rollins. Then I'll talk to you again."
Jack looked him squarely in the face.
"Mr. Temple," said he firmly, "I'm desperate. Father is everything in
the world to me. I'll wait to talk with you. But I tell you frankly
the only plan that appeals to me is to ride into Old Mexico and rescue
him."
The eyes of Bob and Frank, who had turned to listen, lighted up, and
they nodded vigorous approval. Mr. Temple stood off and looked at the
trio of husky fellows as if seeing them for the first time.
"Perhaps," said he, "that is what you will soon be doing."