MYSTERY
“Hurrah—I’m coming!”
Ben Hardy began a brief but enthusiastic letter to his friend, Bob
Dallow, with these words.
“It is all settled, Bob,” added Ben, “and if you are sure you won’t
be put out by having me share your quarters, I can stay for the whole
week. We will have a glorious time, and I am just wild to see those
airship stunts you describe.”
School had closed for the long vacation on Thursday. It was now the
following Monday, and Ben had his satchel packed and was counting the
hours until Tuesday morning and train time should arrive.
Ben had calculated to devote the long vacation to work in the Saxton
automobile plant. The pattern shop was a favorite spot with him in
his visits to the great factory. He was an adept at drawing, and the
foreman of the model department had given him some encouragement as
to a future position. He had, however, advised Ben to wait a year or
two and stick to his studies.
Mr. Hardy had done some serious thinking, and had given his son the
result of the same. Ben’s success with the whistle, his evident
liking for machinery, particularly of new types, had caused Mr. Hardy
to recall his own early dreams and longings before he became a master
machinist.
What pleased the father most was the way Ben went at aeronautics. The
evening after Bob Dallow left Woodville, Mr. Hardy came home to find
Ben seated before a stand piled high with reading matter, and deeply
absorbed in a big volume from the town library.
“Airships, Ben?” inquired his father with an indulgent smile.
“One end of them,” responded Ben. “I’ve ransacked the town for books
and magazines bearing on the subject, and as you see I have got a
raft of them. They cover mostly the history end of the business,
though. I wish I had some of the up-to-date books Mr. Davis showed
me.”
“What you read now will fit in all right to that later,” remarked Mr.
Hardy. “Get as familiar as you can with your subject in a general
way, Ben. You manage the theoretical end of the business, and when
you come back from the aero meet we will join forces on a practical
demonstration of the science.”
“Will you, father?” pressed Ben eagerly.
“By the time you get back I will screen off a space next to the work
shed, and we will see what we can do in making an airship,” continued
Mr. Hardy. “You have talked over the subject so much, I am inclined
to take a flier myself—not up in the air, Ben, but in an inventive
way.”
Ben was more filled with enthusiasm than ever after that. He had been
made doubly happy during the week at receiving a handsome watch,
bearing a pleasing testimonial in script on its inner case, for his
bravery in saving the auto works from possible wreck.
Ben was not troubled any further by Dave Shallock. He heard that his
father, the discharged engineer, was loafing about some low drinking
places in the town. Shallock was making all kinds of foolish boasts
as to his ability to get a new and better place from “old Saxton,” as
he designated him. He hinted at a certain powerful influence he had
with the manufacturer. So far his bragging had brought no results.
That evening, just about dusk, our hero started from home after
supper for a downtown stroll. There was a short cut across a square
which had once held a handsome residence, burned down a few months
previous.
The high hedge fence, broken in places, still lined the front of the
grounds. As Ben neared this he paused, quite startled. Some one had
made a bold rush through the hedge and crouched in a stealthy manner
on its other side, as if trying to hide.
“Why,” murmured Ben in some astonishment, drawing behind a bush, “it
is Tom Shallock!”
Ben wondered what the discharged engineer was up to. He soon learned
the motive of his sudden rush from the public street. Almost
immediately a sharp mandatory voice beyond the hedge shouted out:
“That will do, Shallock—you come out here, if you want to save
trouble.”
“Oh, is that you?” stammered Shallock, and he sheepishly retraced his
steps to the sidewalk.
“You knew it was, and you tried to sneak away from me, didn’t you?”
challenged the stormy voice.
Ben was curious enough to press close up to the hedge and peer
through it. Shallock stood leaning in a shambling way outside, a
crestfallen expression on his face. The man addressing him was a very
keen-eyed fellow Ben had never seen before. He was a stranger in
Woodville. He carried a whip in one hand, and Ben wondered why this
was.
“Now then,” spoke the stranger, “what does this mean? You’ve been
trying to keep out of my way for two hours, and I know it. That
worthless cub boy of yours sent me off on a false hunt.”
“I—I wasn’t prepared to see you,” said Shallock shiftily.
“Why not?”
“Well, then, I knew what you came after.”
“Yes, money.”
“Exactly. I had none. I know you’re a hard man, and I hoped you’d let
me alone for a few days longer.”
“See here, Shallock,” spoke the other sharply, “I’ve got just one
last warning to give you. Produce one hundred dollars, and get it
quick, or I’ll close down on you bag and baggage.”
Shallock began to snivel in a maudlin way. He had been drinking, and
he began to deplore his unhappy lot. He was an unfortunate target of
fate. He had lost his job. His grocery credit had been stopped only
that day, and he had been obliged to sell some of his wife’s jewelry
to buy food for the family.
“Not food, but drink for yourself, you mean,” derided the stranger
testily. “Now then, I’m tired of waiting for that money. I loaned it
to you on a promise of repayment due months ago.”
“I can’t pay when I haven’t got it, can I?” demurred Shallock.
“You can get money out of Jasper Saxton.”
“Ha! yes—yes, indeed,” spurted up Shallock eagerly. “Say, that’s just
what I’m working on. Honestly, if you’ll consent not to trouble me
for a week, I’ll not only have the best job in the Saxton machine
shops, but a lot of ready cash besides.”
“I don’t know that,” remarked the stranger.
“Yes, you do,” disputed Shallock. “You know that Saxton has got to
fix me out right, or lose a fortune.”
“I’d like to see some of your boasted fortune right now,” sneered the
man.
“Oh, it’s coming. Don’t press me too hard, and make me spoil the
whole business. You shall have double interest. I’ll promise you
faithfully to settle the whole business in a month. See here, you
can’t possibly lose. Why, if I failed you, all you’ve got to do is to
take that security of mine and go to Saxton with it.”
“I don’t fancy mixing up in a blackmailing game,” observed the
stranger. “Now then, Shallock, I’ll give you a last chance. You
arrange your business so you can pay me one hundred dollars a week
from to-day, the balance by the first of the month, or I’ll foreclose
on your security.”
“It’s a bargain,” declared Shallock, in a tone of hopeful relief.
“Yes, sir, if I don’t carry out just that agreement, you can take
your security to old Saxton.”
“Oh, no,” said the stranger in a deep decisive voice, “I’ll take it
to Martin Hardy.”
Ben was startled at this last declaration. Shallock uttered a gasp
and put out his hands pleadingly.
“Don’t do that,” he begged in a husky tone, “say, don’t do that!”
“You’ve heard me,” replied the stranger, turning his back on Shallock
and crossing the street. “I’ll do just what I say if you don’t raise
that money!”
“What does this mean?” exclaimed Ben in an excited tone. “Here’s some
dark plotting, and I’m going to get at the bottom of this.”
He ran along the inside at the hedge, passed through it at a break,
and observed the stranger just turning the corner of the side street.
As Ben in turn reached it, the crack of the whip rang out. A sharp
“Get up!” sent a mettled horse attached to a light gig carrying the
stranger away in a flash. Our hero outdistanced, reluctantly admitted
to himself that for the present at least he had lost the clew of a
big mystery.