Cerro Gordo Street was a wide, paved thoroughfare, with date palms
bordering it on both sides between walk and curb. There were four
corners, of course, to the intersection of the two streets, and the two
youths halted in the shadow of a palm to decide which corner was the
one that ought to claim their attention.
“How we goin’ to know which casa is the judge’s?” murmured Fortune
blankly.
“According to that diagram of Hibbard’s,” Owen returned, “there’s an
addition jutting out from the Pembroke house toward Cerro Gordo Street.
Maybe that will give us a clew.”
“Look for the automobile. That’ll be a clew.”
“I don’t think so, Jimmie. They’d be foolish to leave the machine
too close to the house. You stay here while I do a little quiet
investigating.”
“If you need me, yell. I’ll come hotfoot.”
Leaving Fortune in the black shadow of the palm, Clancy moved off
cautiously along Cerro Gordo Street, toward the right. In that
direction he failed to find the house that seemed to tally with
Hibbard’s roughly drawn plan.
Returning on the opposite side of the street, creeping like a wraith
from the shadow of one palm to the shadow of another, he crossed Second
Avenue and reconnoitered in another direction.
Here he had better success. On the other side of Cerro Gordo Street
was a house with a glass conservatory jutting out. The yard was a mass
of dark shrubbery which the faint glow from the electric light on the
corner could not penetrate.
“That must be the place,” thought Clancy. “I’ll go down a little
farther and cross over. If I’m careful, I may find out what Hibbard and
Long Tom are doing.”
From palm to palm he skulked along Cerro Gordo Street, and then,
suddenly, came to a halt. Ahead of him, at the curb, stood a motor car.
It did not show a light.
“There’s the machine Hibbard took from the garage,” thought Clancy,
“and it proves we’re on the right trail.”
He investigated the car and found that it was Pembroke’s big
six-cylinder machine, the one that had figured in events earlier in
the day. There was no one around the car, and this proved that both
plotters were giving their attention to the house.
“Here’s nerve!” muttered Clancy. “Hibbard is using the judge’s car for
his night’s work, and will run away with it when he gets through at the
house, unless---- Well, I’ll fix the machine so he won’t run away with
it.”
Getting up on the running board, Clancy reached over to the dash and
removed the switch plug. After that he sped lightly to the opposite
side of the street and returned along the side of the judge’s premises.
Getting down on his knees under the lee of an iron fence, he crawled
past the house, listening sharply as he proceeded. He could hear
nothing. Not a sound reached his ears that would indicate that anything
unusual was taking place around the house or inside it.
At the corner, Clancy arose to his feet. A few seconds later he was
with his comrade again.
“Find out what you wanted to know?” queried Fortune eagerly.
“I’ve spotted the house,” Clancy answered, “and the car. Fixed the car
so it can’t be used. If those chaps try to get away in it, they’ll have
their trouble for their pains.”
“That’s you! Where’s the house?”
Clancy faced Fortune in the right direction, and pointed.
“Are them coyotes around the place?” asked Fortune.
“I came past the yard but couldn’t hear or see anything of them. We’ll
have to get over the iron fence and prowl through the shrubbery,
Jimmie. Of course, they’re there--they must be. And it’s up to us to
find them and block their game, whatever it is.”
“Wisht I had a gun,” said Fortune. “Both them fellers are heeled, and
I’ll bet my spurs! What’ll we do if they poke a muzzle in our faces,
huh?”
“Dodge,” answered Clancy shortly. “Come on!”
Clancy led the way to the Cerro Gordo Street side of the Pembroke
property, and he and Fortune crouched under the iron fence and listened
intently. Still there was not a sound to be heard.
“Mebby we’ve made a mistake, pard,” whispered Fortune. “Like enough
it’s another house. Wisht I knowed more about the jedge and the wigwam
where he camps. What if we’re wrong? While we’re loafin’ here, Hibbard
and Chantay Seeche may be doin’ their work on one of the other three
cornders.”
“I don’t think we’re wrong,” returned Clancy, in a tense undertone.
“This is our best bet, anyway. We’ve got to get over the fence and look
around, Jimmie. Make as little noise as you can, and keep close to me.”
“It ’u’d take a hull lot to pry me loose from you at this stage o’ the
game, Red,” answered Fortune. “Two’s comp’ny, jest about now, and I’m
right hongry for comp’ny.”
Laying hands on top of the iron fence, Clancy bounded lightly over and
into the yard. Fortune tried to vault, but his boots handicapped him.
The toe of one of them caught on an iron picket and he came down among
the bushes in a sprawl. He started to sputter, but Clancy laid a quick
hand over his lips.
“Sh-h-h!” hissed Clancy warningly.
So far as they could discover, Fortune’s floundering had not aroused
any one. After a few moments, they began crawling toward the side wall
of the house.
They reached the wall about midway of the length of the house. There
they paused and continued to listen and peer around them.
“Wrong trail, pard,” murmured Fortune.
“Let’s make sure of it before we leave,” returned Clancy. “You crawl
toward the front and I’ll go toward the rear. If you hear or see
anything suspicious, don’t try to let me know. I’ll join you before
long, and then you can tell me.”
Clancy’s maneuvers brought him point-blank against the glass side
of the conservatory. He had found not the least sign of intruders.
Half convinced that he and Fortune were really on the wrong trail,
he crawled forward along the wall to get his friend and carry
investigations elsewhere.
Fortune, however, had made a discovery which caused Clancy to change
his plans for leaving the premises.
“I’m next to somethin’, Red,” Jimmie whispered.
“What is it?”
“Open winder--right over my head. See for yourself.”
Clancy arose to his knees. Fortune was right. There was a window,
there, with the lower sash raised.
“By Jove!” murmured Clancy, in his companion’s ear. “It’s a case of
robbery, and both those fellows are inside!”
“We’ll wait till they come out, pard,” said Fortune excitedly, “and nab
’em one at a time, as they drap. They won’t be able to shoot, if we’re
quick.”
“But suppose they leave by a door and don’t come through the window?”
“That’s me and my fool headwork, ag’in!” grunted Fortune. “You boss
this job, Red, and I’ll foller orders. What’s the next move?”
“I’m going inside.”
“Don’t you! Mebby the winder’s only open fer air, and you’ll be grabbed
for a thief yourself. I wouldn’t go inside that _estakazol_ for a farm!”
“If the window was opened for air, Jimmie, the screen wouldn’t have
been taken off, would it?”
“I don’t reckon it would.”
“Hibbard and Long Tom are inside, and I’m going to make sure they don’t
get out through a door with any boodle.”
“What’ll I do?”
“Stay here and wait for something to happen.”
“S’pose more happens than I can take care of? What then?”
“Do the best you can, that’s all.”
“Gee-wollops! I’m so narvous I feel as though I wanted to yell. But go
on. I’ll stay here.”
Clancy had been pulling off his shoes. Fortune did not have to tell
him what disagreeable consequences would follow if he crawled into
Judge Pembroke’s house and failed to find Hibbard and Long Tom there.
Clancy’s imagination was good enough to picture his plight in such a
condition of affairs. But, nevertheless, he was determined to go in.
Carefully he placed his hands on the sill, drew himself upward and
wriggled through into the darkness of the room beyond. Fortune had many
tremors as he watched his pard vanish.
“By glory,” said Jimmie to himself, as he crouched downward and made
himself as small as possible, “Red has got a heap more nerve than me. I
don’t allow I could do a thing like that, noways.”
As for Owen, whenever he made up his mind that it was necessary to do
a thing, he banked on his judgment and did it. He might be wrong. If he
was, he could explain to the judge.
Once inside the room with the open window, Clancy found himself in
surroundings totally unfamiliar. And he dared not strike a light for
fear of betraying himself--not only to Hibbard and Long Tom, but also
to the judge’s household. Either might spell disaster for him.
As he stood in the gloom, he recalled as distinctly as possible, the
diagram which Hibbard had drawn for Chantay Seeche Long. He wished,
then, that he had paid more attention to that rude drawing.
As near as he could remember, this room had two doors, one in the front
wall and another in the rear. If he was right, through which of those
doors had Hibbard and Long Tom passed?
He reflected that they would not go toward the front of the house,
providing they could get what they were after by keeping more to the
rear of the building.
“I’ll chance the rear door,” thought Clancy, and groped his way in that
direction.
He went slowly, avoiding chairs, and passing around a table. At the
wall, he ran his hands carefully over the blank surface until they came
to a swinging curtain. He pulled the curtain aside and reached out. His
hand encountered only space beyond, and his eyes stared into pitchy
darkness.
“I’m headed right,” he said to himself. “Those fellows went this way
and left the door open. Now I’ll----”
His thoughts suddenly left him. Out of the blank gloom two arms
stretched themselves, enfolded him in a viselike embrace, and wrenched
his feet out from under him. He fell soddenly on a thick carpet, with a
knee on his chest and pinning him down.