In the livery stable on Emmons Street, the same one in which Ralph had
been confined, sat four men. They were grouped about a table in a small
room in the rear of the place, for the stable was what is sometimes
known as “a blind,” and the place was the resort of all sorts of
unprincipled characters who had reason to fear the forces of law and
order.
On the table was a litter of papers, typewritten specifications and blue
prints, but the most conspicuous object was a beautiful model of Mr.
Peregrine’s vanishing motor gun. One of the men was Stephen Melville,
and the identity of the others may be easily guessed. They were Sawdon,
Jake Rook and Radcliff.
“Well, boss, have we earned our pay?” asked Jake Rook, as Melville
paused in his interested scrutiny of the model and the plans.
“You bet you have,” he exclaimed enthusiastically, “and as soon as we
have a contract with the government I’ll give you a bonus as well. Why,
with these plans and this model it will be easy to manufacture a machine
unlike the Peregrine one in appearance but exactly like it in principle.
What a fool he was not to sell when he had the chance! Now we have all
the benefits of his work for nothing.”
“But say, boss,” interrupted Jake Rook, “how are you going to get the
stuff to New York? There’s a hunt on for us in the city, and I guess
that by this time you are being looked for, too.” For Jake had
discovered that his letter had not been delivered, and readily guessed
that it might have fallen into Ralph’s hands, and from him passed to the
possession of the two lads they had tried so hard to injure.
“I’ve arranged for all that,” said Melville; “the police may guard all
the railway stations; but we won’t go by train. I know a man here who
has a fast motor boat and isn’t too particular, where there is money
concerned. He’ll take us down the coast a way, and then put us ashore.
We’ll separate and reach New York by different routes.”
“That’s a rattling good plan,” said Sawdon approvingly; “I guess that
this time we’ve got those kids buffaloed for fair. Does this fellow with
the boat know that you are going to hire it?”
“Yes, I thought it best to be prepared for emergencies, and so I have
arranged for the boat to meet us at the Buttermilk wharf. That’s some
distance from the regular shipping piers, and we won’t attract
attention.”
“And Dan Darby has the disguises,” added Jake Rook. “Oh, Dan!” he cried,
raising his voice. In response a bottle-nosed, red-faced man of the low,
rough type shuffled in.
“Well, what is it?” he demanded.
“Have you got those disguises?”
“Sure, they’re upstairs in the loft. Want to put ’em on now?”
“We do,” said Melville; “there’s no knowing how soon some of that outfit
may cross our trail, and we don’t want to be caught napping.”
“All right, go right ahead up. Jake knows the way,” said Dan, who,
although he posed as a livery-stable keeper, was a notorious rascal of
Boston’s underworld.
Half an hour after the four worthies had taken their way upstairs, they
reappeared again. But how altered! Jake Rook, who was an adept at this
sort of thing, had excelled himself at his work.
Melville’s moustache had been shaven off, and he was rigged out like a
bloated, broken-down old cab-driver; Sawdon had the semblance of a
hanger-on about a livery stable; Jake Rook appeared to be a peddler; and
Radcliff was apparently a seedy, down-at-heels foreigner of the emigrant
type, with an untidy black beard.
“Great!” exclaimed Dan, as he viewed them; “your own mothers wouldn’t
know you, and that’s the truth.”
At this moment there came a loud knocking at the door of the stable,
which was closed and locked. Dan darted to a peephole in the front of
the place, constructed for the purposes of spying.
“Great Scott, boys!” he exclaimed the next minute, in a low, tense
whisper, “it’s them kids you were talking about, with half a dozen
policemen. They’re in plain clothes, but I’d know a bull anywhere.”
Instant consternation prevailed among the conspirators. But Jake Rook,
who alone remained cool, spoke up quickly.
“Is the old getaway still working, Dan?” he asked quickly.
“Yes. You know where it is. It leads out on Murphy’s Alley.”
“Good! Follow me, and we’ll fool that bunch yet,” exclaimed Jake,
darting to the rear of the stable, while Dan called out in a surprised
voice: “Who’s there?”
“It’s the police. Open this door instantly, do you hear?” came a sharp
voice on the outside.
“All right! all right!” and Dan shuffled toward the door; “What’s up?
What do you want?” he demanded, as he opened it slowly.
“To search this stable of yours. Some suspected criminals have been
traced here,” spoke up the leader of the police, a heavy-set man with a
crisp moustache.
“Here?” exclaimed Dan, in well-simulated amazement; “criminals in my
stable? You must be mistaken.”
“Oh no, we’re not, and this place is too well known for us to be fooled
by you. Stand aside.” The man gave Dan a rough shove that sent him
spinning to one side and entered the place, followed by the boys and his
comrades of the force. But, as we know, the birds had flown. Not a trace
of them could be found. The “getaway,” as Jake Rook called it, a secret
door in the back of the place leading out on an alley, was too cunningly
constructed even to catch their attention.
“There, what did I tell you?” grinned old Dan, when they had finished
and found that they had “drawn a blank,” as huntsmen say. “It’s too bad
to do anything like this. Why, if it got out, it would give me a bad
reputation.”
“You precious old rascal,” exclaimed the detective, “as if you weren’t
one of the worst characters in Boston, but too foxy to get into the
toils of the law!”
“Oh, my! Oh, my! How you talk!” exclaimed old Dan, looking as if he was
really grievously insulted by the imputation that he was not an honest
and upright citizen.
“Well, there’s no doubt in my mind that the men were here,” said the
officer, turning to the boys; “but they’ve gone, and covered up their
tracks mighty well, too.”
“More bad luck,” growled out Tom, gritting his teeth; “and just when we
thought we had them, too. I don’t suppose we’ll ever see them again
now.”
“It’s not likely,” admitted the policeman; “from what you have said they
must be a band of slick fellows, all right.”
“But suppose this man Melville starts to manufacture that vanishing gun
thing, can’t he be prosecuted?” asked Dick Dangler.
“Mr. Bowler says that such a slick man as he is would make just enough
alterations in the model so that it wouldn’t be possible to prove that
it was not his own idea. Such cases are very hard to prove, he says, and
cost thousands of dollars. No; if the model is in Melville’s hands,
there’s an end of it.”
This speech was the contribution of Jack, who had talked with the lawyer
on this very subject. There being nothing more to be done at the stable,
they came away, followed by a sarcastic grin from old Dan.
“You won’t never catch an old bird like me by putting salt on his tail,”
he chuckled. “I wonder if them fellows took that model they set so much
store by? Looked like so much junk to me, but I guess it must be
valuable to them all right.” He peeped into the room where the
consultation had been held and found that the model and papers had been
taken. Jake Rook, in fact, in his dash for the alley had taken the model
and stowed it under his coat, while Melville had grabbed up the papers.
The boys were sitting in the hotel that afternoon pondering fresh plans,
when there came a sudden summons to the telephone.
“This is Captain Andrews,” came a voice at the other end when Jack
answered it. “By the great horn spoon, but I’ve a valuable bit of
information for you lads. It concerns those lubbers who stole the
patent.”
“Gracious!” cried Jack, “is that so? Where can we see you?”
“You wait there and I’ll be up,” was the reply; “if my information is
right those rascals are about to slip through your fingers again.”
“By ginger! not this time, if it’s humanly possible to catch them,”
declared Jack earnestly, as he hung up the receiver. “We’ll follow them
no matter where the chase may take us.”
And where it was to take them neither of the boys dreamed at that
moment, but they were on the eve of one of the most adventurous
incidents of their lives.