THE MAN IN GRAY
You know there are some people who can never keep a secret. We have all
met them, much to our disgust. George, the "chauffeur" of the little
runabout launch _Shark_, was such a person. Possibly when he gave his
promise to Alvin Landon and Chester Haynes not to reveal what then
seemed the fate of Mike Murphy, he meant to do as he said, but somehow
or other he was not equal to the task.
He kept mum on the dreadful subject until he had secured his boat and
walked up the street past Hodgdon's well-known store, when he met an
acquaintance with whom he briefly chatted. By the time they had
finished, he had told him, under a solemn pledge to mention it to no
one, all about the sad death of the Irish lad from drowning. Within the
following hour this friend told the story to three others, all of whom
agreed upon their sacred honor to say nothing about it to anyone. They
kept the promise as well as George himself, who broke it three or four
times more in the period named. One of the depositaries of the gruesome
news was the guard who stood watch over the _Deerfoot_, while the owner
and his companions went to the hotel to see that the hunger of the
marooned young gentleman was appeased. This statement will explain the
curious glances at the little group as they moved about the town, as
well as the remark of the guard upon their return to the motor boat.
As night approached, George was impressed with his duty of acquainting
the parents of Mike with the dreadful blow that had befallen them. They
must hear of it sooner or later, and it was best that they should get it
straight. Accordingly he motored thither, completing what I fear was not
an unwelcome task in time to meet the _Deerfoot_ engaged on the same
errand. Of course he heard the hail of Chester. He did not reply, for he
was in no mood to make explanations and receive censure for what he had
done from a high sense of duty--as the offender always insists in
similar circumstances.
Everything was so plain to Alvin and Chester that throughout the
conversation that followed their entrance into the home of Pat Murphy,
they did not once ask the much afflicted parents of the source from
which they had received their information.
The father was sitting in his chair at the side of the room bowed and
silent in grief that was too deep for him to seek solace from his pipe.
The wife sat on the other side of the room, rocking to and fro, flinging
her apron over her face, the tears flowing down her cheeks, and her
features twisted with anguish. So absorbed were they in their sorrow
that they hardly glanced at the boys and did not address them.
Alvin could not restrain his sympathy at sight of the suffering of the
couple, the father's none the less than the mother's because it was
mute. The youth's promise to Mike was thrown to the winds and he called
out:
"Stop your mourning! Mike hasn't been drowned!"
"Phwat's that ye say?" demanded the father, who half rising from his
chair was staring at the lad as if doubting the words that had reached
him. The wife, grasping each side of her apron with a hand and about to
fling it upward, was equally quick in checking herself and with her
mouth wide open she hoarsely exclaimed:
"Phwat! Say that agin!"
"Mike is alive and well as he ever was in his life."
They still stared, dazed and unable for the moment to speak another
word. The callers sat down.
"I say again that Mike is well and safe. He spent last night on a little
island not many miles away and we brought him back in the _Deerfoot_."
The mother still gazed and clutched her apron. Her husband showed that
he caught the meaning of what he had heard.
"And where is Mike?"
The question recalled Alvin's promise to pave the way for his friend's
return to his home.
"Before I tell you," said the Captain, "you must give me your pledge
that you will not punish him for what happened last night. Will you do
so?"
"That I will," was the unhesitating answer. "He desarves a licking, but
we'll call it square--that is," was the qualifying condition, "so far as
_this_ thing is consarned."
"What! lick me baby Mike!" exclaimed the glad mother; "not in a thousand
years! Where is the darlint that I may kiss the hid off him?"
"Remember, Pat, what you just said. Mike isn't to be blamed for what
took place and you should be as thankful----"
Just then a terrific crash was heard in the kitchen, the door to which
was closed. The mother, in her highly wrought state, screamed and sprang
to her feet. Her husband snatched up the candle from the stand in the
middle of the room and ran to learn what the uproar meant, with his wife
just behind him.
It seemed to be a night for the general breaking of promises. It will be
remembered that Mike had agreed to stay on board the _Deerfoot_ until he
saw the door of his home opened by one of his friends and heard a
whistle as notice that the path had been cleared and he might go
forward. The two, however, had hardly entered the building when Mike
changed his mind. With a refreshing forgetfulness of what he had lately
passed through, he said:
"It's mesilf that is in danger of catching a cowld in my hid, as Larry
McCarty said after slaaping in an ice box, and in stepping ashore, I may
as well step a little furder."
Thus it came about that Alvin and Chester were no more than fairly
inside the small house when Mike moved softly to the door and listened
to the voices within. He was disappointed in not being able to
distinguish everything said, though it will be recalled that no one
spoke in whispers.
Suddenly it occurred to the boy that he could do much better if within
the house itself. The darkness of the kitchen showed that the door
connecting that with the sitting room was closed. He knew he could hear
more plainly from the smaller room.
Being in darkness, he had to depend upon the sense of feeling. It was no
trouble to raise the sash without making any noise. When lifted well up,
the catch held it in place and he began crawling stealthily through. He
saw the thin line of light under the door and heard what was being said
on the other side. Knowing the room so well he needed no illumination to
guide him. He balanced himself for a moment and then dropped lightly to
the floor. More properly he tried to do so, but unaware of the chair in
his way, he tumbled over that, which in turn tumbled over him, and
caused the crash that startled those in the sitting room and brought his
parents to learn what it all meant.
One glance at the sturdy figure struggling to his feet and muttering
impatient exclamations told the mother who he was. Thrusting her husband
aside, she rushed forward, straightened up the overturned chair, and
dropping into it, seized her boy with both arms:
"Praised be! Me own darlint! Me baby! Bliss yer heart!"
She was striving frantically to pull him upon her lap and would have
succeeded had Mike not been larger than she and strongly opposed to
acting the part of an infant. There was good-natured strife between them
for a minute or two, with the laughing father and two youths looking on.
Then Mike triumphed, forced his parent upon one knee, and with an arm
around her ample waist began bouncing her up and down with a vigor that
broke her words apart, though it did not prevent her from grasping him
about his neck and crying with joy.
"Arrah, mither, but it's yersilf that makes a fine barrel of jelly. Hist
now! can't ye sit still," he protested, bouncing her harder than ever.
Alvin and Chester held their sides, for it was the funniest spectacle
upon which they had ever looked. By and by Mike released the happy
victim, and all returned to the larger room, where they sat down. Alvin
said:
"It's been fixed, Mike. The slate is wiped out up to this night. You and
your father begin over again in the morning."
"Does he spake the thruth, dad?" asked the lad gravely.
"Alvin always does the same, but ye can make up yer moind ye'll be in my
debt afore the morrow's night."
"I don't doubt it, as Barney Foord said whin he was voted the biggest
fool in siven counties. Whisht!"
A timid knock sounded and Mike sprang up and opened the outer door.
Mollie, one of the maids, stood smiling.
"There's a gintleman waiting fur ye at home," she explained.
"Waiting to see me?" repeated the surprised Alvin, rising to his feet.
"That's what he said and he will bide till ye returns."
"Well, good night, folks!" called Alvin to the happy family. "Come,
Chester."
The two went out together, wondering who the caller could be. The brief
distance was quickly traversed, and, passing through the front door,
they turned into the handsomely furnished library.
As the lads entered, a man rose.
"You are Alvin Landon, I believe," he inquired, "and you," turning to
his companion, "are his friend, Chester Haynes."
If ever two youths were astonished, when they made courteous reply to
the salutation, they were our young friends, for the caller who thus
addressed them was the man in gray that had followed them to the inlet
on Barter Island and had now come to Alvin's home at Southport.
"If you can spare me a few minutes I have something of importance to say
to you," he added as he took the seat to which Alvin waved him.
It proved an important interview indeed, but the revelation made by the
man in gray and the events which followed there-from will be told in the
second volume of the Launch Boys Series entitled "The Launch Boys'
Adventures in Northern Waters."
THE END.