ON THE TRAIL
After a rather late breakfast next morning for, it being vacation, the
boys were under no necessity to rise early and being healthy lads took
full measure of sleep, Jack appeared at the Temple home, and the three
went into conference. Mr. Temple, head of a big exporting firm, had
left early for the city by automobile. Mr. Hampton, reported Jack, had
done likewise with his guest.
"Fellows," said Jack, "when I got up this morning, it was with the
feeling that this mystery was too good to be overlooked."
Frank's eyes brightened.
"Just the way I feel about it," he declared. "I told Bob when we were
dressing that we were in luck, because right at the moment it was
beginning to look as if we were in for a dull summer, Fortune went and
put an exciting mystery on our doorstep."
Big Bob yawned.
"Oh, you fellows don't know when you have a good thing," he said. "I
suppose you want to go and stir up a lot of trouble as you did last
summer. Why can't you let well enough alone?"
They were in the sitting room shared by Bob and Frank, and the latter
picking up a handy pillow promptly smothered his big chum with it and
then sat on him.
"Don't mind him, Jack," he panted, in the resulting tussle. "He's
always like this when he gets up in the morning."
A spirited engagement followed, from which Jack discreetly kept apart.
Presently, when the couch was a wreck and Bob had Frank over his knees
and was preparing to belabor him, Jack interfered.
"Listen to reason, you fellows," he pleaded. "I've got a proposal."
"Shall we listen to the proposal, Frank?" asked Bob, now fully awake,
and grinning broadly. "Or shall we muss him up a bit?"
"'Ark to his Royal 'Ighness," shouted Frank, his equilibrium restored.
"'Ear. 'Ear."
"Very well," said Bob, addressing Jack with mock solemnity. "My friend
says you are to be spared. But, mind you, it must be a good proposal.
Now, out with it."
Jack, ensconced in a deep easy chair, uncrossed his knees and leaned
forward.
"You remember what was said last night about the operations of the
liquor smugglers in and around New York?" he inquired.
The others nodded.
After the conversation the previous night had been directed by the
revelations of the boys regarding their mysterious neighbors, and by
Mr. Hampton's comments on the operations of liquor smugglers, the boys
had learned from the older men surprising facts regarding the
situation.
Since the adoption of prohibition, they had been told,
liquor-smuggling had grown to such an extent that a state of war
between the smugglers and the government forces practically existed.
Single vessels and even fleets were engaged by the smugglers to bring
liquor up from the West Indies and land it on the Long Island and New
Jersey coasts, and to combat these operations the government had
formed a so-called "Dry-Navy" comprising an unknown number of speedy
submarine chasers. A number of authentic incidents known to Colonel
Graham and to Mr. Hampton and Mr. Temple had been related in which the
daring of the smugglers had discomfited the government men, in one
case a cargo of liquor having been landed at a big Manhattan dock by
night and removed in trucks while a sub chaser patrolling the
waterfront passed the scene of operations several times,
unsuspecting. There were other stories, too, of how the tables were
turned, an occasion being cited when a sub chaser put a shot across
the bow of what appeared to be a Gloucester fishing schooner which
thereupon showed a clean pair of heels and tried to escape but was run
down and captured inside the three-mile limit and proved to contain a
$30,000 cargo of West Indian rum.
Some of these facts, of course, had appeared in the newspapers. Others
had not been made public. But, far from New York City as they were and
not interested in reading about news events, for they had their own
interest to engage their attention, the boys were not familiar with
the situation. What they had been told came as a tremendously
interesting revelation.
"Very well," continued Jack, as Bob and Frank prepared to listen;
"remembering what we heard last night about the liquor smugglers, it
certainly seems likely, doesn't it, that the man who has bought the
haunted Brownell house, built a secret radio plant and introduced a
radio-controlled airplane into our exclusive neighborhood, may be
involved with the smugglers?"
"Righto, Jack," Frank declared. "But what's your proposal?"
"Simply that we do a little investigating on our own account."
"If you intend to propose that we go nosing around the Brownell place,
trying to spy and snoop, I vote against it," declared Bob. "I ran away
yesterday, after discovering that radio plant, because I felt danger
in the air. With a wire fence built to keep out intruders and with New
York gunmen posted in the woods, I have a feeling it wouldn't be
healthy to do any investigating. If I were tiny as Frank
here"--reaching over to rumple his chum's hair--"it might do. They
couldn't hit me. But, as it is, I'd make a fine target."
Jack smiled and nodded agreement.
"Agreed on that," he said. "Dad always tells me it is only a foolhardy
idiot who puts his head into danger unnecessarily. But that isn't the
kind of investigating I had in mind."
"Then what?" asked Frank.
"Well, first of all, this is a fine day for flying," answered Jack,
pointing out the open window, to where warm sunshine lay over the
country and the sparkling sea in the distance. "You fellows lie abed
so long. You haven't had a chance yet to see what an ideal day it is;
warm, cloudless, and with hardly a trace of wind."
"What's flying got to do with it?" asked Bob. "We saw yesterday about
all we can see from the air. Any more flying over there will make
somebody suspicious."
"I was thinking of a little trip to Mineola," said Jack. "Then we can
leave the old bus on the flying field there and motor into the city in
an hour. Once in the city we might ask Mr. McKay, your father's real
estate friend, who the fellow is who has bought the old Brownell
house."
"Then what, Hawkshaw?"
"Oh, Bob, don't be such a grouch," protested Jack. "What if nothing
comes of it? We'll have had a good trip, anyhow."
Bob grinned.
"I'm not grouching, Jack," he said. "Only I wanted to see what you had
in mind. If it's just a flying trip you're after, well and good. I'm
with you. The plane is limbered up since I worked it over, and
yesterday's little spin gave me a taste for more, too. But if you are
really intent on getting at the bottom of this mystery, I have a
proposal, too. What's the matter with our hunting up the Secret
Service men? Maybe they would be glad of our tip."
"Good for you, old ice wagon," cried Frank, slapping his chum's broad
shoulder.
Jack likewise nodded approval. The previous summer the boys had been
instrumental in thwarting the plots of an international gang on the
California coast to smuggle Chinese coolies into the country in
violation of the Chinese Exclusion Act. As a consequence, they had
made the acquaintance of Inspector Burton of the Secret Service and
had even been called to Washington to receive the personal thanks of
the Chief for their service and to be introduced to the President.
Their adventures during that exciting period are related in "The Radio
Boys on Secret Service Duty."
"Very good," said Jack, bounding to his feet. "Come on, let's go. It's
ten o'clock now. If we hurry, we can cover the sixty miles to Mineola,
put up the plane, and be in the city by noon. That will give us two or
three hours there, and we can be home easily in time for dinner."
"All right," said Bob. "I'll tell Della where we are going, in case
Mother isn't up yet. She had a bad headache, and may be staying in
bed. You fellows go down to the hangar, and start getting out the
plane. I'll join you right away."
Jack and Frank hurried away, while Bob went to execute his mission.
When he rejoined them at the hangar, the plane already was on the
skidways.
"You take the wheel going up, Bob," said Frank. "I'll pilot her
home."
The trip to Mineola flying field, where Bob and Frank and Mr. Temple
as well had taken their flying lessons, was made without incident.
Planning not to arouse the suspicions of anybody who might be on
watch, Bob was careful to steer a course over the water a good mile
out from Starfish Cove. Watching through the glass, Frank reported the
little plane missing and no sign of life on the tiny beach or in the
woods beyond where the radio plant was hidden.
Mechanics at the flying field, who knew them, took the plane in charge
when they alighted. Although they had planned to hire an automobile to
take them into the city, they learned they were in time to catch an
express train, and boarded it. After a fast run, they emerged from the
train which had borne them through the tunnel under the East River and
under Manhattan and ascended to the main waiting room of the
Pennsylvania Terminal. The hour still lacked several minutes of noon.
"I'm not particularly hungry," said Jack. "If you fellows feel the
same way about it, suppose we defer luncheon until we have seen Mr.
McKay. Probably we can catch him at his office now. But if we lunch
first, there is no telling when we can get to see him. These business
men take three or four hours for lunch lots of times."
"Lead on," said Frank. "Do you know where his office is located?"
"At Times Square," said Bob. "I've been there once with Dad. Come on.
We'll take the Subway. It's only one station up the line."
The three boys were familiar with the great city, having lived on Long
Island all their lives. Although many miles distant from New York,
they were frequent visitors. Crossing the big waiting room, they
entered the West Side subway, and a few minutes later disembarked from
an express train at the Times Square station. Mounting to the surface,
Bob led the way to a towering office building. An express elevator
shot them to the twentieth story, and there they entered the anteroom
of a handsome suite of offices occupied by the J. B. McKay Realty
Corporation, and inquired of the information clerk--a young woman--for
the head of the firm. Here, however, they met disappointment. Mr.
McKay was not in the city.
"Mr. McKay's secretary is here, however," said the clerk, taking pity
on their evident dismay. "Wait a moment and I'll call him."
She spoke into the telephone receiver, and then nodded brightly.
"Mr. Higginbotham will see you," she said. "He is in that corner
office."
Jack was undecided. He looked to his companions.
"Shall we try him?"
"May as well," said Frank. "Probably he can give us the information we
want, just as well as Mr. McKay."
Following directions, they entered a roomy office, furnished in walnut
and with walnut panelling on the walls. Two big windows gave a
commanding view up Broadway below and west to the Hudson river and the
Jersey shore. A small, sharp-eyed man, with graying hair, immaculately
dressed in gray, rose from the desk as they entered and regarded them
inquiringly.
Jack wasted no time on preliminaries, but after introducing himself
and his companions, stated their mission. They wanted to know who was
the man who had bought the old Brownell place, and what was known
about him.
His name? Mr. Higginbotham could not recall it. He doubted whether
there was a record of it at hand. The old Brownell place? Yes, he
remembered the property. Why were the young men interested.
Sharp-eyed Frank detected a slight start at Jack's query. Moreover, he
thought there was an air of guarded watchfulness about Higginbotham,
for no apparent reason. That mysterious sixth sense which so often had
been of value in the past now came to the fore. Before Jack could
reply, he took over the conversation.
"Oh," said he, lightly, "being neighbors, we were just curious, we
wondered who had bought the haunted house. That's all. My uncle, Mr.
Temple, is a friend of Mr. McKay. So, being near, we thought we would
stop in and ask him. That's all. Sorry to have bothered you. Good
day."
And taking the bewildered Jack and Bob by their arms, he gently
propelled them to the door.