The Voice with the “Squeak and Roar”
Next morning Guy went to Captain Harding and told him of the visit of
Watson and the protest he had made. The master of the ship looked at the
boy with a smile, half of concern, half of amusement, and replied:
“You surely have made a mistake, young man. I’ve known Mr. Watson for
several years. He’s all right. I’ll give you my word as a man absolutely
that he neither committed nor attempted to commit a burglary.”
“I’m satisfied now that I did him an injustice,” said Guy. “I’ll go and
apologize to him. But I wonder who the burglar could ’ave been.”
“If I get further information on the subject, you’ll hear from me,”
assured the captain. “We have a detective on board.”
An hour later Guy found Watson in the smoking room and told him what the
captain had said:
“I’m sorry I made the mistake,” the boy added. “But if you knew how much
that fellow looked like you—”
“So I’ve got a double on board, have I?” interrupted the man of the
large features. “Well, I’d like to meet him for two reasons: one is
because he got me into an unpleasant tangle, and the other is curiosity.
If you meet him, catch onto his coat-tail and hold fast till I come.”
“I don’t know about that,” laughed Guy. “I got into trouble over one
mistake, and I don’t want to make another. I think I’ll let my burglar
escape.”
“What did my friend, Mr. Gunseyt, have to say after I left your
stateroom last night?”
“Nothing that would do you any good to hear.”
“I infer from your answer that he didn’t say anything very complimentary
about me.”
“I can’t tell you anything he said. I practically promised not to.”
“But he told you that I was the burglar, didn’t he?” insisted Watson
with a peculiar smile.
“How do you know that?”
“Oh, I know a good deal more than you suspect. He told you to look out
for me and avoid me. He said I was a bad man and not a safe fellow to
associate with. He informed you also that he and I didn’t meet for the
first time on this steamer.”
Guy was astonished. Where had this man gathered his information? Had he
been eavesdropping?
“You’ve got the best of me,” the boy admitted. “How did you find all
that out?”
“I’m a student of psychology, phrenology, physiognomy, telepathy, and
several other oligies and pathies in that category,” replied the man
with a mysterious wink. “You know what that means, I suppose.”
“Not very clearly, I am afraid,” admitted Guy.
“No? You’re too young. But you’ll learn ’em some day if you’re going to
be a man of affairs. And I never studied them in books either. I know a
little about some other things—criminology, human nature, and what
certain kinds of men will do under certain circumstances and
conditions.”
Guy looked puzzled. Most of this was Greek to him. Watson came to his
rescue.
“I know Mr. Gunseyt,” he said.
“Are you personally acquainted with him?”
“Yes and no. He thinks he knows me, but I know him a lot better.”
“Where did you meet him?”
“Where? Let me see. I’ve almost forgotten, it’s been so long. In London,
I guess.”
“How did he happen to make such an impression on you that you have to
use a dictionary of jawbreakers to explain it?”
“That’s an anthropocomical question, my boy, and requires an answer that
I do not wish to give at present.”
The man was becoming facetiously mysterious again, and Guy grew
impatient.
“I suppose next you’ll be advising me to avoid him,” suggested the
latter.
“Not at all. On the contrary, I’d be sorry to produce such an effect. He
won’t do you any harm.”
“Then he isn’t a bad man?”
“Is there any reason why you should think so?”
“No, I guess not.”
Guy was more mystified than ever. Half an hour later he told his mother
of the developments of the morning, and she advised him to give Messrs.
Watson and Gunseyt both a wide berth.
“They may both be confidence men working together, while they appear to
be enemies,” she advised him.
This suggestion startled the boy. It had not occurred to him before.
However, a few moments’ thought caused him to reply:
“I can’t believe it. The captain said he knew absolutely that Watson was
all right, and he wouldn’t have said that if he hadn’t known what he was
talking about.”
In spite of his mother’s advice, Guy could not resist the temptation to
seek out Mr. Gunseyt again and inform him what the captain had said
about Mr. Watson. The “radio rogue” looked mildly surprised, screwed up
one eye meditatively, and said:
“Well, of course, there’s always possibility of a mistake, but I can’t
believe there are two men in the world that look and act as much alike
as Watson and Lantry. However, it’s nothing to me, and I hope, for your
friend’s sake, I’m wrong.”
“He’s no friend of mine,” assured the boy. “I never met him before and I
don’t care if I never meet him again. I came near wishing I hadn’t met
him at all.”
The steamer was still plowing through cold northern waters and
correspondingly cold atmosphere. The passengers remained under cover
most of the time after the ship left the Gulf Stream, for the weather
was fitfully inclement and the cabin walls were comfortable protection
from cold and rain. For those who insisted on open-air exercise, the
promenade deck afforded the best convenience.
Guy was fond of open air, summer and winter. So he was seen frequently
walking the promenade. Usually he was not alone, for he found
acquaintances readily. There were a number of boys in the first class
passenger section who got together every day in the gymnasium, or tennis
or ball courts, and Guy was one of that number. Another, Carl Glennon,
son of a Brooklyn lawyer, also was fond of the promenade, and he and Guy
met frequently. He had finished high school the year before and his
father had given him his choice between going to college and seeing the
world. He had chosen the latter, with a view to taking a business
position after finishing his travels.
On the afternoon of the fifth day out from Liverpool, Guy met Carl on
the promenade, and the latter greeted him thus:
“Hello, Burton. I hear somebody broke into your stateroom. Did he take
anything?”
“No. How did you hear anything about it?”
“The burglar told me.”
“What!”
“I should have said the alleged and exonerated burglar.”
“Mr. Watson?”
“Yes.”
Glennon smiled at Guy’s bewilderment.
“That’s funny,” the latter remarked. “I didn’t think he’d say anything
about it.”
“He seemed to take it as a joke.”
“He did? He didn’t talk that way to me.”
“No. He said he was pretty angry at first, but he got over it when he
found out who put the suspicion into your mind.”
“Nobody put the suspicion into my mind. I saw the man come out of
mother’s stateroom and thought I recognized him. But who did Mr. Watson
mean?”
“A man named Gunseyt. You know him, I suppose.”
“Yes, I know him in a way, about the same as I know you,” Guy explained.
“I met him on the boat.”
“So did I. Odd chap, isn’t he?”
Meanwhile the boys made the course of the promenade once and doubled
back, walking briskly and inhaling deep breaths of the keen air. Then
they sat down on a bench near the open entrance of a sheltered corner.
Neither spoke for several moments, and Guy had reason soon to be glad of
their silence.
Presently they heard voices inside and a familiar name was uttered in a
manner that caused them to be all attention in an instant.
“I tell you I know the fellow Watson,” said a voice that was strange to
both listeners. “He’s a secret service man as sure as you’re a foot
high.”
“Did you ever meet him before?” inquired another voice, the sound of
which almost caused Guy to leap from his seat. Glennon caught him by the
sleeve and implored silence in a low whisper. The first speaker was
replying:
“No, but I’ve seen him in court; I’ve heard him testify. He’s an ocean
ferret, spends most of his time on ocean liners. He’s hooked up several
old pals of mine.”
“Is his name Watson?” inquired the voice that had startled Guy.
“You can bet it ain’t. He’s got a dozen names and two dozen disguises.”
“I’ve been suspecting him. I haven’t been asleep. Is he disguised now?”
“In his dress and manner, yes. That’s one of the best disguises ever
heard of. False whiskers and a wig ain’t in it. A good actor can change
his personality so you’d never know him, even if one eye’s in his chin
and the other’s in his forehead. This fellow’s togged up like an
American merchant and carries himself like the owner of the world. Very
sarcastic and snaps you up with a wise grin every time he gets a
chance.”
Guy had observed this peculiarity in Watson on some occasions, while on
others it seemed entirely wanting. But if it was assumed with a purpose
this variation was now explained.
The conversation of the two men now dropped to an undertone and the boys
were unable to hear any more. They strained their ears unsuccessfully
several minutes; then Guy arose and whispered to his companion:
“Come on.”
They stole softly away, and when at a safe distance, the younger boy
said:
“I know one of those men, I’m sure. I want to tell you about him an’
then go back and see what kind o’ looking fellow he is.”
“If you know him, why don’t you know what kind o’ looking fellow he is?”
inquired Glennon logically.
“Because I never saw him, that is, I never had a good look at his face.
The only time I ever saw him was in a London fog.”
“Then how do you know you know him?”
“I know his voice. He’s a fog pirate. He held up a friend and me a few
weeks ago.”
“You don’t say! Did he get much?”
“Didn’t get anything. Another man happened along as he was making us
empty our pockets and knocked his gun out of his hand.”
“Good! Did the fellow get away?”
“Yes; he bolted. But I remember his voice here. You’d remember it a
hundred years, wouldn’t you? The boy who was held up with me called it a
half-squeak, half-roar.”
“He hit it pretty good, if this is the fellow,” nodded Glennon. “What’re
you going to do about it?”
“Oh, nothing. I’ve just got a curiosity to see what kind of looking guy
he is. Let’s go back now and walk in just as if we were happening that
way.”
The boys turned and retraced their steps to the shelter. On entering the
place, Guy looked eagerly for a view of the man with the familiar voice
but he was unrewarded.
The place was empty.