At two o’clock a light flashed in the brush over in the Park.
“Are you there?” it asked.
Dee’s flash winked back “_Yes!_”
“Bill talking,” said the flash in the Park.
“Don’t waste time,” begged Dee.
“Going to throw rope,” said Bill. “Where’s best window?”
“Side next to Corey’s,” Dee replied, remembering that side of the
house had a blank wall until it was broken by the dormer window in
the third story. He hurried over to that window and with his pocket
knife cut the screen. It was rotted by the wind and rain, and
crumbled easily under his knife blade. Then he leaned far out and
distinguished four dark forms creeping beside the house.
Bill’s flash sent up a single gleam. Dee answered it. As Dee leaned
out, a slim line, weighted at the end, whirled toward him and fell.
Again it rose, this time reaching the level of the window. Over and
over this happened, one after another of the group below trying to
send the weighted end close enough for Dee to seize it. Suddenly he
waved to the fellows to stop, and withdrew his head. Flashing his
light over the attic, he spied a bed-slat and carried it to the
window, then waved a signal for the ropes to be thrown. Holding the
slat at right angles with the window, the third trial sent the rope
whirling over the slat, and Dee grabbed it. He rapidly drew it up,
knowing that the other end would hold some sort of instructions.
Sure enough, there was a scrap in Frank’s handwriting, so Dee knew
that both Frank and Ernest must be below.
He read the words, “If your scrape is serious, pull the string three
times and we will send up a rope. If you have just had an ordinary
fuss with your dad, say so, and be a sport and stick to your guns.”
Dee laughed noiselessly, and pulled the string three hard jerks.
Immediately there was a quick pull on the line, and Dee commenced to
haul up. A rope followed the string, and another note was bound to
the end.
“Throw rope over beam, and pay down the end,” it read.
Dee did so and soon the heavy rope hung taut. It was difficult work
getting out of the window and starting down the three story slide in
the pitch dark, but Dee knew it was his one chance. He had but
little faith in the continuance of Zip’s friendship; he knew him too
well. And as for Mr. De Lorme, Dee knew that his life was worth
absolutely nothing as long as he remained in that house. And of more
importance still, there was the mystery of the dynamite to unravel.
The fatal thirteenth was drawing near.
Sliding painfully down the ropes Dee thought of all this and as soon
as he felt his feet on the ground he jerked the rope down with his
own hand, and turning to Ernest and Frank, who were hastily coiling
it, whispered,
“Let’s get out of this!”
One at a time, they made their way through the back garden into the
pitch dark garage, and out the other door into the alley. Once in
that comparative security, they raced up the alley and turned in at
Bill’s gate. Up to the club room they hurried, Dee whispering,
“Don’t make a light!”
But Ernest would not talk until he had made sure that there were no
listeners, and then in as few words as possible Dee told his story.
The boys’ eyes grew round and wild as they listened, and at the
conclusion Ernest looked at his watch, and said to Frank, “Where is
the flivver?”
“Out front,” replied Frank.
“You, Bill, sneak in and get a couple of your mother’s long coats,
and Frank will take Dee and Bill and me up to the landing-field at
Camp Taylor where I parked my plane. I want the kids to look like a
couple of girls going out of here, so if we are seen or watched they
will not spot Dee. I hope for an hour or two before they find he is
gone. Bill can come back. You, Eddie, get down to the end of the
Park, where the bushes are thick, and watch that house. If anyone
goes out, follow him. And for the love of Mike don’t let a cop catch
you, because you _can’t explain_. See? This is not a little hold-up
or second-story job. It may be the discovery of the gang that has
been sending infernal machines all over the United States. I am
going to fly with Dee over to the United States Intelligence Branch
of the War Department at Cincinnati and let Dee tell his story.”
Bill came hustling out in a moment with coats and hats, and the two
tall boys (not as tall as Mrs. Wolfe, however) enveloped themselves
in her wraps and walked sedately out of the front door and stepped
into the chugging flivver.
Fifteen minutes later at Aviation Field a man and a slim boy left the
car and hurried aloft in a little racer that belonged to Ernest,
setting their faces toward Cincinnati.
Frank and Bill went back home and not knowing just what part to take,
went up to the club room to wait for news of Eddie. Half an hour
later, just as dawn was beginning to streak the sky, he appeared. A
half dozen morning newspapers were under his arm and he looked the
early-bird of a newsie to the life. But he flung his papers on the
floor and himself into the biggest chair.
“Oh, gee!” he said in a hushed voice, “things are didding down there
at Dee’s. I say that is an old whale when it comes to plots.”
“Don’t gabble,” demanded Frank. “Tell us, did you see anything?”
Eddie refused to give up his information except in his own way.
“Have a heart, man!” he said, waving a grubby paw at Frank. “Can’t
you see I am all out of breath?” He panted loudly a couple of times,
then condescended to tell his experience.
“I went down there in the bushes,” he said, “and glued my eyes to
that house. There wasn’t a soul in the street, and nobody came. But
by-and-by I thought I saw someone sneaking around the corner from the
back and sure enough there were two men pussy-footing it up the front
porch. Well, someone must have been watching for them because as
soon as they reached the door it slid open a little bit and they went
in. They didn’t have time to ring at all. When I saw that there
were no more of them, I skinned across and tried to see in the
windows.”
“You little loon, you might have been shot!” muttered Frank.
“All for the Cause!” said Eddie airily. “Well, I couldn’t see a
thing, so I went over to the next porch and swiped the papers on two
or three steps, and then I laid down in the hammock like I was a
newsie and dead tired. But I had an eye to the crack of the hammock,
waiting for them to come downstairs. I knew they would have to come
out. Then all at once I happened to think that the house has a back
door, and I thought, ‘Suppose they go out that way!’ Because they
came around from the back.
“So I skinned around and drifted along by the fence till I came to
the garage. I went in, and say, fellows, hope I may die if I didn’t
fall right over the hood of a big machine! I made a clatter that you
could have heard up here, but I was sure afraid to pick myself up.
So I laid still as long as I dared, then got up and sneaked behind a
couple of barrels in the corner, and there I waited some more, and
pretty soon in waltzed the two men. They never made a sound, and
they scared me nearly to death. They didn’t walk; they just sort of
appeared. One of them had a big suitcase, and I bet it was full of
dynamite, because he set it in the bottom of the car easier than if
it had been eggs. The other one opened the garage doors and got in
the driver’s seat and started the car, while the other fellow sat
down beside him, and lifted the suitcase on his lap like a sick baby.
Then they backed out and in another second were gone.
“That car was a whiz. It was big as the ark, and it went with less
sound than I have ever heard an engine make. And I have had some
experience, I will say!”
“Of course!” said Frank absently. “Well, one thing is clear, they
take their stuff away somewhere in a car. Gosh, Rowland, if that
suitcase had gone off there in the garage, it would have mussed you
all up, wouldn’t it?”
“I should say _so_!” said Eddie solemnly. “I thought of that. Oh,
yes, there was one thing. Just as the car started, one of the men
said something about ‘the last trip tomorrow afternoon.’ So I bet
they are coming back for more.”
“Good, and more of it!” said Frank. “We must find out where they are
taking their stuff.” He yawned. “I wonder if you fellows aren’t
sleepy. Seems as though I hadn’t had a nap for a year or so.”
“I can’t sleep,” said Eddie, and Bill echoed him.
“All right,” said Frank, “you can stay here, and if Ernest comes
while I am dozing, come wake me up. He won’t stay in Cincinnati any
longer than he has to. Don’t know what he will do with Dee. His
life isn’t worth much around here I should say, if old Papa De Lorme
was to get track of him. Ern will attend to that, I know. He will
bring Dee back disguised as a hot dog if he has to. So long! I
won’t be able to think if I don’t sleep for a spell.”
He went off, and Bill and Eddie sat talking in low tones. Presently
Bill took up the wireless. “Wonder if I can catch any fish this
early?” he said idly, then his eyes bulged as he listened.
“Two more cases needed,” the wireless ticked. “Reached here safely
with suitcase. If chosen messengers ask, tell them machines and
bombs are under shale in back chamber. Rush work. Will motor in
about four tomorrow afternoon. Be ready.”
There was a pause, and the answer snapped back quickly. “Working
without rest or sleep. Cases will be ready in time.”
Sleep banished from their eyes, Bill and Eddie stared at the slip of
paper whereon Bill had written the two messages.
“Make another copy of that,” said Eddie. “No one knows what will
happen to either of us and the other one wants to have the message to
show Ernest.”
Bill wrote rapidly. “He sure does!” he agreed. “Gee, I wish Frank
hadn’t gone to sleep, but I bet he would be mad if I woke him up to
show him this. We will have to wait until Ernest comes.”
The boys concealed the scraps of paper on themselves, and presently
even the excitement failed to keep them awake. Without meaning to,
they too went to sleep, one on the big center table, and the other
stretched out on the couch. For two hours they slept, utterly tired
out, then awoke when Frank wandered in, announcing breakfast in a
voice that would have been easy to hear a mile away, Bill declared.
“That’s all right,” said Frank. “You don’t know who is around, and
our play is to be as noisy as usual. Come on in and get something to
eat. I have telephoned your house, Eddie, and got them just in time
to keep them from dragging the river.”
“That’s a shame!” exclaimed Eddie.
“I don’t know; it’s quite a large river to drag.”
“I don’t mean that!” said Eddie. “What makes you so foolish?”
“You, I reckon,” laughed Frank. “No, they were not up when I called,
and did not know that you were not right in your own little downy
cot. So it’s all right. Come on in and eat. I suppose it is
nothing in your lives that _I_ am starving. Oh, no; what’s that to
you?”
“Well, lead on, lead on!” cried Eddie. “I hope you got a good
breakfast. I am starved.”
“Waffles,” said Frank briefly.
“Wow!” cried Eddie, and the boys were at the table before you could
think. Now the Wolfe cook was a waffle artist. And when you had had
six or eight of her waffles, crisply brown, light as feathers,
swimming in real maple syrup, why, then you were just ready for a
good start. And she loved to cook for hungry boys, loved to see them
eat. But this morning was the triumph of her life. Never had any
boys in that house eaten so much or praised the waffles so loudly.
After breakfast, Frank went out and looked his car over, and “tuned
her up,” and the boys showed him the message they had picked up.
An hour later, Ernest wandered across the Park as though he had not a
worry in the world. He was alone and, greeting them in the most
casual and off-hand way, he watched Frank tinker with a brake for a
moment or two, heard the news, then asked, “Wonder if I can go in and
wash up, Frank?”
“Sure,” said Frank, dropping his tools and leading the way toward the
house. “Have you had breakfast?”
“Back in Cincinnati,” Ernest assured him.
As soon as the door closed behind them, Frank demanded, “Where did
you leave the kid?”
“Up at Taylor in the Provost Marshal’s office,” answered Ernest. “He
is all right. The Intelligence Department took it up with the
Department of Justice on the long distance. Result is five secret
service men are on their way here by the fast train. They will
arrive about noon.”
“That is cutting it short enough,” said Eddie.
“We will have to be on the job, every one of us, this afternoon.” In
a whisper he repeated what he had heard in the garage, and Ernest
said, “They didn’t say what time, did they?”
“Yes, about three this afternoon.”
“Hope they pull it off late,” said Ernest. “We had a great time,
boys. I wish you had been along. Those chaps think Dee had a narrow
escape.”
“I’ve got to finish the car,” said Frank. “Come on out when you get
ready. I think we ought to keep in sight.”
“I am ready now,” said Frank.
They all trailed out after Frank, and proceeded to assist him by
sitting on different parts of the car and giving advice.
Suddenly Bill looked down the street and gasped.
“Don’t look, fellows,” he said rapidly. “Here comes that fellow Zip!
I bet he is going to speak to us!”
They bent their eyes on Frank and commenced a low chatter as the
black-browed stranger approached them.
He stopped, sure enough, and said, “Good morning.”
The boys returned his greeting, and he said,
“I was wanting to ask of you if you had chanced to see Marion De
Lorme this morning.”
“No, we haven’t,” said Bill and Eddie honestly enough. “Did he come
up this way?” asked Eddie cheekily.
“I don’t know,” said Zip, with a queer twitch of the jaw. “Mr. De
Lorme wants him. If you see him, will you say for him to come home
at once?”
“I saw him this morning,” said Ernest.
“Where?” demanded Zip, scarcely able to conceal his eagerness.
“Down by the L. & N. Station,” said Ernest calmly. “Looked as though
he was traveling.”
Zip somehow looked relieved.
“Thank you,” he said, and, turning, hurried back, his coat-tails
flapping.
The boys looked at Ernest.
“I did see him there!” he said. “That was the truth. With me. Up
in the air.”