UNDER TROPICAL STARS.
The manager glanced at the millionaire’s startled face for a moment and
then asked, his voice showing sympathy rather than curiosity:
“Unpleasant news, Mr. Havens?”
“Decidedly so!” was the reply.
The millionaire studied over the telegram for a moment and then laid it
down in front of the manager.
“Read it!” he said.
The message was brief and ran as follows:
“Ralph Hubbard murdered last night! Private key to deposit box A
missing from his desk!”
“Except for the information that some one has been murdered,” Mellen
said, restoring the telegram to its owner, “this means little or nothing
to me. I don’t think I ever knew Ralph Hubbard!”
“Ralph Hubbard,” replied the millionaire gravely, “was my private
secretary at the office of the Invincible Trust Company, New York. All
the papers and information collected concerning the search for Milo
Redfern passed through his hands. In fact, the letter purporting to have
been written and mailed on the lower East Side of New York was addressed
to him personally, but in my care.”
“And deposit box A?” asked Mellen. “Pardon me,” he added in a moment, “I
don’t seek to pry into your private affairs, but the passing of the
telegram to me seemed to indicate a desire on your part to take me into
your confidence in this matter.”
“Deposit box A,” replied the millionaire, “contained every particle of
information we possess concerning the whereabouts of Milo Redfern.”
“I see!” replied Mellen. “I see exactly why you consider the murder and
robbery so critically important at this time.”
“I have not only lost my friend,” Mr. Havens declared, “but it seems to
me at this time that I have also lost all chance of bringing Redfern to
punishment.”
“I’m sorry,” consoled Mellen.
“I don’t know what to do now,” the millionaire exclaimed. “With the
information contained in deposit box A in their possession, the
associates of Redfern may easily frustrate any move we may make in
Peru.”
“So it seems!” mused Mellen. “But this man Redfern is still a person of
considerable importance! Men who have passed out of the range of human
activities seldom have power to compel the murder of an enemy many
hundreds of miles away.”
“I have always believed,” Mr. Havens continued, “that the money
embezzled by Redfern was largely used in building up an institution
which seeks to rival the Invincible Trust Company.”
“In that case,” the manager declared, “the whole power and influence of
this alleged rival would be directed toward the continued absence from
New York of Redfern.”
“Exactly!” the millionaire answered.
“Then why not look in New York first?” asked Mellen.
“Until we started away on this trip,” was the reply, “we had nothing to
indicate that the real clew to the mystery lay in New York.”
“Did deposit box A contain papers connecting Redfern’s embezzlement with
any of the officials of the new trust company?” asked the manager.
“Certainly!” was the reply.
The manager gave a low whistle of amazement and turned to his own
telegrams. The millionaire sat brooding in his chair for a moment and
then left the room. At the door of the building, he met Sam Weller.
“Mr. Havens,” the young man said, drawing the millionaire aside, “I want
permission to use one of your machines for a short time to-night.”
“Granted!” replied Mr. Havens with a smile.
“I’ve got an idea,” Sam continued, “that I can pick up valuable
information between now and morning. I may have to make a long flight,
and so I’d like to take one of the boys with me if you do not object.”
“They’ll all want to go,” suggested the millionaire.
“I know that,” laughed Sam, “and they’ve been asleep all day, and will
be prowling around asking questions while I’m getting ready to leave. I
don’t exactly know how I’m going to get rid of them.”
“Which machine do you want?” asked Mr. Havens.
“The _Ann_, sir, if it’s all the same to you.”
“You’re quite welcome to her,” the millionaire returned.
“Well, then, with your permission,” continued Sam, “I’ll smuggle Jimmie
out to the field and we’ll be on our way. The machine has plenty of
gasoline on board, I take it, and is perfect in other ways?”
“I believe her to be in perfect condition, and well supplied with fuel,”
was the answer. “She’s the fastest machine in the world right now.”
Sam started away, looking anything but a tramp in his new clothes, but
turned back in a moment and faced his employer.
“If we shouldn’t be back by morning,” he said, then, “don’t do any
worrying on our account. Start south in your machines and you’ll be
certain to pick us up somewhere between Quito and Lake Titicaca. If you
don’t pick us up within a day or two,” the boy continued in a hesitating
tone, “you’ll find a letter addressed to yourself at the local
post-office.”
“Look here, Sam,” suggested Mr. Havens, “why don’t you tell me a little
more about yourself and your people?”
“Sometime, perhaps, but not now,” was the reply. “The letter, you
understand,” he continued, “is not to be opened until you have
reasonable proof of my death.”
“I understand!” the millionaire answered. “But here’s another thing,” he
added, “you say that we may find you between Quito and Lake Titicaca.
Are you acquainted with that region?”
“Well, I know something about it!” replied Sam. “You see,” he continued,
“when I left your employ in the disgraceful manner which will at once
occur to you, I explained to Old Civilization that she might go and hang
herself for all of me. I ducked into the wilderness, and since that time
I’ve spent many weeks along what is known as the roof of the world in
Peru.”
“I wish you luck in your undertaking!” Mr. Havens said as the young man
turned away, “and the only advice I give you at parting is that you take
good care of yourself and Jimmie and enter upon no unnecessary risks!”
“That’s good advice, too!” smiled Sam, and the two parted with a warm
clasp of the hands.
After leaving the millionaire aviator at the telegraph office, Sam
hastened to the hotel where the boys were quartered and called Jimmie
out of the little group in Ben’s room. They talked for some moments in
the corridor, and then Jimmie thrust his head in at the half-open door
long enough to announce that he was going out with Sam to view the city.
The boys were all on their feet in an instant.
“Me, too!” shouted Ben.
“You can’t lose me!” cried Carl.
Glenn was at the door ready for departure with the others.
“No, no!” said Sam shaking his head. “Jimmie and I are just going out
for a little stroll. Unfortunately I can take only one person besides
myself into some of the places where I am going.”
The boys shut the door with a bang, leaving Carl on the outside. The lad
turned the knob of the door and opened and closed it to give the
impression that he, too, had returned to the apartment. Then he moved
softly down the corridor and, still keeping out of sight, followed Sam
and Jimmie out in the direction of the field where the machines had been
left.
The two conversed eagerly, sometimes excitedly during the walk, but of
course, Carl could hear nothing of what was being said. There was quite
a crowd assembled around the machines, and so Carl had little difficulty
in keeping out of sight as he stepped close to the _Ann_. After talking
for a moment or two with one of the officers in charge of the machines,
Sam and Jimmie leaped into the seats and pushed the starter.
As they did so Jimmie felt a clutch at his shoulders, and then a light
body settled itself in the rather large seat beside him.
“You thought you’d get away, didn’t you?” grinned Carl.
“Look here!” shouted Jimmie as the powerful machine swept across the
field and lifted into the air, “you can’t go with us!”
“Oh, I can’t?” mocked Carl. “I don’t know how you’re going to put me
off! You don’t want to stop the machine now, of course!”
“But, see here!” insisted Jimmie, “we’re going on a dangerous mission!
We’re likely to butt into all kinds of trouble. And, besides,” he
continued, “Sam has provisions for only two. You’ll have to go hungry if
you travel with us. We’ve only five or six meals with us!”
“So you’re planning a long trip, eh?” scoffed Carl. “What will the boys
say about your running off in this style?”
“Oh, keep still!” replied Jimmie. “We’re going off on a mission for Mr.
Havens! You never should have butted in!”
“Oh, let him go!” laughed Sam, as the clamor of the motors gradually
made conversation impossible. “Perhaps he’ll freeze to death and drop
off before long. I guess we’ve got food enough!”
There was no moon in the sky as yet, but the tropical stars looked down
with surprising brilliancy. The country below lay spread out like a
great map. As the lights of Quito faded away in the distance, dark
mountain gorges which looked like giant gashes in the face of mother
earth, mountain cones which seemed to seek companionship with the stars
themselves, and fertile valleys green because of the presence of
mountain streams, swept by sharply and with the rapidity of scenes in a
motion-picture house.
As had been said, the _Ann_ had been constructed for the private use of
the millionaire aviator, and was considered by experts to be the
strongest and swiftest aeroplane in the world. On previous tests she had
frequently made as high as one hundred miles an hour on long trips. The
motion of the monster machine in the air was so stable that the
millionaire had often taken prizes for endurance which entitled him to
medals for uninterrupted flights.
Jimmie declares to this day that the fastest express train which ever
traveled over the gradeless lines of mother earth had nothing whatever
on the flight of the _Ann_ that night! Although Sam kept the machine
down whenever possible, there were places where high altitudes were
reached in crossing cone summits and mountain chains.
At such times the temperature was so low that the boys shivered in their
seat, and more than once Jimmie and Carl protested by signs and gestures
against such high sailing.
At two o’clock when the moon rose, bringing every detail of the country
into bold relief, Sam circled over a green valley and finally brought
the aeroplane down to a rest hardly more than four thousand feet above
sea-level. It was warm here, of course, and the two boys almost dropped
from their seat as the fragrant air of the grass-grown valley reached
their nostrils. While Sam busied himself with the running gear of the
flying machine, Jimmie and Carl sprawled out on the lush grass and
compared notes. The moonlight struck the valley so as to illuminate its
western rim while the eastern surface where the machine lay was still
heavy in shadows.
“Jiminy!” exclaimed Jimmie, lifting himself on one elbow and gazing at
the wrinkled cones standing all around the valley. “I wonder how Sam
ever managed to drop into this cosy little nest without breaking all our
necks.”
Sam, who seemed to be unaffected by the cold and the strain of the long
flight, stood, oil-can in hand, when the question was asked. In a moment
he walked over to where the boys lay.
“I can tell you about that,” he said with a smile. “Not long ago I had a
job running an old ice-wagon of an aeroplane over this country for a
naturalist. We passed this spot several times, and at last came back
here for a rest. Not to put too fine a point upon it, as Micawber would
say, we remained here so long that I became thoroughly acquainted with
the country. It is a lonesome little valley, but a pleasant one.”
“Well, what did we come here for?” asked Carl, in a moment, “and how far
are we from Quito? Seems like a thousand miles!”
“We are something like four hundred miles from the capital city of
Ecuador,” Sam replied, “and the reason why we landed here will be
disclosed when you chase yourselves along the valley and turn to the
right around the first cliff and come face to face with the cunningest
little lake you ever saw, also the haunted temple which stands there!”