CAPTURE
The flight across the Pacific from Oahu to Lanai took less than two
hours. Early in the afternoon Linda brought the Sky Rocket to a landing
on the beach of the lonely island, near to the spot indicated on her
map.
“That must be the agent’s shack over there,” she said, as she and Dot
climbed out of the cockpit. “I hope he’s there.”
The girls walked along the beach a short distance. How different it was
from Waikiki! How deserted! Yet just as beautiful in the bright
sunlight. Before they reached the shack, however, a man in a linen suit
came out to meet them.
“Miss Carlton and Miss Crowley, I suppose?” he inquired, holding out his
hand. He was a pleasant-faced man of middle age, with a tanned
complexion and eyes as blue as the waters of the Pacific. “My name is
Jardin. I have the wireless from Honolulu.”
“Then you know all about us,” said Linda. “Can you take us to Steven
Long’s plantation?”
“Yes, I can. But it doesn’t seem possible that that man is a criminal.
What are the charges against him?”
Briefly, Linda told the facts of her story.
“But those are all charges against the girl,” Jardin pointed out. “You
haven’t anything against Long.”
“He stole two planes,” insisted Dot.
“You mean his wife stole them. I don’t think that man can fly.”
Linda and Dot looked at each other in disappointment. How awful it would
be if they couldn’t bring Sprague to justice! For they believed that he
was responsible for the whole affair.
“Well, we’ve got plenty against the girl—if she is the one you’re
seeking,” concluded Jardin. “So I’ll get my runabout and drive you over
to their plantation.”
“Wait!” interposed Dot. “A plane’s coming! Who can it be?”
“Probably only some of the coast guards,” explained Jardin, gazing up at
the approaching monoplane. It was the type used by the U. S. fliers in
their patrol about the islands.
Nearer and nearer it whirred; a moment later it swooped down on the
beach a short distance from them. The pilot climbed out of the cockpit,
and the girls, recognizing him instantly, uttered a wild cry of joy. It
was Bertram Chase!
“Bert!” they both cried at the same time, as he rushed forward and
seized their hands. “What miracle brought you here?”
“I found out about your flight at the Honolulu airport,” he replied.
“You might know I’d come after you, no matter where you went!”
“But what are you doing in Hawaii?” demanded Dot.
“I sailed from Los Angeles the very night I left you—after I put the
Ladybug into the airport. We’re on the track of a counterfeiter, and a
clue pointed to Honolulu. Money turned in at a bank there. So I was sent
to Hawaii. Lucky break for me!” He looked admiringly at Linda.
“That’s great!” exclaimed Dot. “Leave your plane here and come along
with us in Mr. Jardin’s car. We think we’re going to nab Linda’s double
at last.”
Mr. Jardin took the wheel of his runabout and Linda sat beside him. In
the rumble-seat behind, Dot and Bert Chase laughed and talked excitedly
of the adventure.
Over the beach, through lanes that could hardly be called roads, the
little car threaded its way into the heart of the island. Fifteen
minutes later, within sight of a low, straw-covered bungalow, it came to
a stop.
“This is Long’s place,” announced Jardin. “Do you all want to come in
with me?”
“Certainly,” replied Dot, her eyes sparkling with anticipation.
Along a path overgrown with ferns and flowers, in thick profusion, the
little party went single file to the veranda of the bungalow. Not a
person was in sight; the place looked empty. Had Sprague and his wife
run away again—or were they only hiding?
Jardin stepped boldly up to the door and rapped. A native boy answered
his summons in a minute or two.
“Meester Jardin,” he said, with a grin of welcome.
“Is your master about?” asked the agent.
The boy nodded and beckoned for them to come inside.
The room to which the door opened was deserted. A plain, bare room, with
only a few rough chairs, a table, and a hard cot. Not exactly the kind
of place a woman would enjoy.
“I get him,” said the boy, indicating for the visitors to be seated, and
going out of the front door again.
Linda and Dot sat down upon the hard chairs, but Chase wandered
aimlessly around the room, examining its scanty contents with curiosity.
Another native boy came in with a pitcher of water, and Jardin inquired
for Mrs. Long.
“She sick,” he explained, briefly, pointing to another room beyond, and
he, too, disappeared.
They drank their water, and waited tensely. Why didn’t the man come? Did
he suspect something? Chase continued to walk about the room, peering
with interest, at the closed door where the girl was supposed to be
lying, stopping now at the table beside a window, and picking up a
little tool that looked like a nut-pick, that was lodged in a crack
between the table and the window-sill.
“What’s that, Bert?” asked Dot idly, not because she cared about
knowing, but just for something to say.
“Looks like a dentist’s drill to me,” remarked Jardin, with a shudder.
But Chase was holding it up, examining it closely, his eyes staring with
unbelief. He had made a discovery!
“I’m going to investigate this place!” he announced, putting the little
instrument into his pocket. “See you later.” And he went out of the
front door.
“Now what do you suppose—?” began Dot, but she stopped abruptly, for at
that moment a door at the back opened and Long came into the room. He,
like Jardin, was wearing a linen suit, and a big hat, but there was no
mistaking the man. As Linda and Dot had insisted, he was none other than
Leslie Sprague!
If he was startled by the sight of the two aviatrixes, he did not betray
the fact by his expression. Whatever he felt, he covered his surprise by
a grin.
“Afternoon, Jardin,” he said, calmly shaking hands. “How are you?”
“Afternoon, Long,” replied the agent, looking questioningly at the
girls.
“How do you do, Mr. Leslie Sprague?” asked Dot, triumphantly.
Sprague shrugged his shoulders and laughed.
“A name I used in connection with moving-pictures,” he explained to
Jardin.
“Where is your wife, Long?” asked the agent, desirous of getting this
business over as quickly as possible. “If she is the girl these young
ladies believe her to be, we have a warrant for her arrest.”
“Poor Fanny’s sick,” replied Sprague. “Too bad to arrest her now, when
she feels so rotten.... Besides, it was only a prank.” He looked
understandingly at Jardin.
“A prank!” repeated Dot, in disdain. “A prank to steal two planes,
chloroform both of us, and forge a check for five thousand dollars!”
Sprague laughed uncomfortably.
“You must be mistaken, Miss—er—Manton.” He remembered Dot’s assumed
name, and took pleasure in using it. “Probably Mexican bandits did
that.”
“Mexican bandits can’t fly planes!” returned Dot, defiantly.
“We will have to take your wife, Long,” interrupted Jardin. “Go in and
get her.”
“Can’t we arrest him?” demanded Dot, resentfully.
“I don’t see how we can, until we have something more definite,” replied
Jardin, who was evidently an easy-going person, who hated to suspect
anybody. “We can hold him as accessory while his wife is being
tried....”
He stopped abruptly, for Chase suddenly opened the door and walked into
the room, dragging a man with him. A hard-looking fellow, with a sullen
expression and a slinking gait.
“I have found my counterfeiter!” Chase announced triumphantly to Jardin.
“And this is his accomplice!”
Still holding the man by the arm, the detective swung about and pointed
his finger at Sprague.
“Steven Long is the criminal the U. S. Government has been searching for
for a year! Long, alias Logman, alias Sprague—” He stopped, and laughed.
“To think that I saw this man in the studio of the Apex Film
Corporation—even tried to help him out—and never knew who he was! The
joke is on me!”
“But you’ve got him now!” cried Dot, unable to restrain her delight.
All eyes were turned upon Sprague. He was not laughing now. Rather, he
was cowering, deathly pale, holding on to a chair for support. He did
not even demand how Chase had discovered his secret. But Jardin asked
immediately.
“It was this little instrument I picked up out of the crack,” explained
the young detective, producing the tool that resembled a nut-pick. “I
recognized it as an engraver’s tool. I wondered why it should be here.
And then I had an inspiration to search the place. Where could a
counterfeiter work better than here on this lonely island? Under the
guise of a pineapple planter?”
“But is that all the proof you have, Chase?” demanded Jardin,
impatiently.
“Not by any means. That was only the beginning. I wandered about the
place till I found another shack, hidden almost completely by
camouflage. But I got in. And caught this fellow—” he shook his
captive’s arm—“in the act of engraving fifty-dollar bills!”
Deliberately, then, he reached into his pocket for two pairs of
handcuffs, which he calmly proceeded to fasten upon the wrists of the
two men. A tense silence lasted while he performed this operation, a
silence which was suddenly broken by the hysterical wail of a girl.
In a second the closed door of the bedroom was flung open, and Linda’s
double dashed into the room. Sobbing with fright, she threw herself at
Linda’s feet.
“I didn’t know I was married to a criminal!” she wailed. “Oh, this is
the end—the end of everything! I wish I was dead!”
Leaning over, Linda gently raised the girl to her feet, and for the
first time, looked into the face of her double. The same blue eyes, and
blond, curly hair; a nose not unlike her own, and a lovely, flower-like
complexion. But oh, how different she looked, with that expression of
terror and misery on her face, and the tears streaming from her eyes!
Like Linda, and yet totally unlike her!
“Sit down,—Fanny,” whispered Linda. “And try to control yourself.”
The girl did as she was told, and Chase turned to Jardin.
“Let’s take these men away in your car, Jardin,” he suggested. “And come
back for the girls. We’ll send a wireless for a boat to come over from
Honolulu and put them into the jail there.”
“Is that all right with you, Miss Carlton?” inquired Jardin. “Can you
manage Fanny till we get back?”
“Yes, that suits me,” agreed Linda.
“Do you want to say good-bye to your husband, Mrs. Long?” asked Chase.
“I never want to see him again!” was the impassioned reply. “I hate
him!”
So the four men went out, leaving Linda and Dot alone at last with the
girl who had made so much trouble for them. The girl who had pretended
to be Linda Carlton!