A CONSULTATION
"This man Higginbotham is not the chief figure in the liquor smuggling
ring," stated Captain Folsom emphatically.
Captain Folsom sat in the Temple library, with the boys grouped about
him. The time was nearing ten o'clock. From the moment of his arrival,
shortly after the hour of nine, he had been in conference with the
boys, and they had explained to him in detail all that they had
discovered or surmised about their neighbors of the old Brownell
place.
An army officer with a distinguished record, who had lost his left arm
in the Argonne, Captain Folsom upon recovery had been given a
responsible post in the prohibition enforcement forces. His was a
roving commission. He was not attached permanently to the New York
office, but when violations of the law at the metropolis became so
flagrant as to demand especial attention, he had been sent on from
Washington to assume command of a special squad of agents. Lieutenant
Summers, U. S. N., in command of the submarine division known as the
"Dry Fleet," was operating in conjunction with him, he had told the
boys.
Still a young man in his early thirties, he had a strong face, an
athletic frame and a true grey eye, and had made a good impression on
the boys.
"No," he repeated emphatically, "this man Higginbotham is not at the
bottom of all this devilment. There is somebody behind it all who is
keeping utterly in the dark, somebody who is manipulating all the
various bands of smugglers around this part of the world. I believe
that when we unearth him we shall receive the surprise of our lives,
for undoubtedly, from certain evidences that have come to my attention
so far, he will prove to be a man of prominence and importance in the
business world."
"But why should such a man engage in liquor smuggling?" asked Jack,
astonished.
Captain Folsom smiled.
"My dear boy," he said, "wherever 'big money,' so to speak, is
involved, you will find men doing things you would never have
suspected they were capable of. And certainly, 'big money' is involved
in bootlegging, as liquor smuggling is termed.
"Evidently, you boys have not been interested in watching developments
in this situation, since the country became 'dry.' Well, it's a long
story, and I won't spin out the details. But, as soon as the
prohibition law went into effect, in every city in the country
bootleggers sprang up. Many, of course, were of the lawless type that
are always engaged in breaking the laws. Others, however, were people
who ordinarily would not be regarded as law-violators. In this case,
though, they felt that an injustice had been done, that human liberty
had been violated, in the foisting of prohibition on the country. They
felt it was a matter the individual should be permitted to decide for
himself, whether he should take a drink of liquor or not, you know.
"These people, therefore, did not regard it as a crime to break the
law.
"Another salve to conscience, moreover, was the fact that tremendous
sums of money were to be made out of bootlegging. Liquor was selling
for prices that were simply enormous. It still is, of course, but I am
speaking about the beginnings of things. People who never had drunk
liquor in any quantities before, now would buy a case of whiskey or
wine, and pay $100 a case and up for it, and consider themselves lucky
to get it. They would boast quietly to friends about having obtained a
case of liquor.
"The bootlegging industry, accordingly, has grown to astonishing
proportions to-day. Right in New York City are men who are rated as
millionaires, who a few years ago did not have a penny, and they have
acquired their money through liquor smuggling.
"At first these bootleggers operated individually, and elsewhere in
the Nation that is still largely their method. But here in New York
there have been increasing evidences lately that some organizing
genius had taken charge of the situation and was swiftly bending other
bootleggers to his will. For some time, we have been of the opinion
that a syndicate or ring, probably controlled and directed by one man,
was responsible for most of the liquor smuggling here."
"And do you believe," interrupted Frank, "that this man who has bought
the old Brownell place may be that central figure?"
Captain Folsom nodded.
"It is entirely possible," he said. "Moreover, what you have told me
about the construction of a secret radio plant, and about the
appearance of this radio-controlled airplane, fits in with certain
other facts which have puzzled us a good deal lately."
"How so?" asked Jack.
"For one thing," said Captain Folsom, "my colleague, Lieutenant
Summers of the submarine division, tells me that his radio receivers
aboard the boats of his fleet have picked up any number of mysterious
series of dots and dashes lately. Code experts have been working on
them, but they have proved meaningless.
"He was puzzled by them. He still is puzzled. But, we have noticed
that after every such flooding of the ether with these dots and
dashes, a shipment of liquor has appeared on the market. And one
theory advanced is that the liquor was landed along the coast of Long
Island or New Jersey in boats controlled by radio from a powerful land
station. The boats, of course, according to this theory, were launched
from some liquor-laden vessel which had arrived off the coast from the
West Indies. Radio-driven boats, automobiles or planes, Lieutenant
Summers tells me, are directed by a series of dots and dashes. So you
see, our theory sounds plausible enough, and, if it is correct, the
direction probably has come from this secret radio station."
Big Bob's brow was wrinkled in thought. He seldom spoke, but usually
when he did so, it was to the point.
"In that case," he asked, "what would be the necessity for this
radio-driven airplane? Apparently, the airplane is for communication
from ship to shore. But, with a radio land station, why can't such
communications be carried on by radio in code?"
Captain Folsom looked thoughtful.
"There is something in that," he said.
"Perhaps, these plotters are playing safe," suggested Frank. "They may
figure that code would be intercepted and interpreted. Therefore, they
confine their use of radio to the transmission of power waves, and do
not employ it for sending messages. The airplane is the messenger."
Jack nodded approvingly.
"Yes," he agreed, "Frank's idea is a good one. Besides, by using a
radio-controlled plane, the plotters can scout over the surrounding
waters for miles whenever a ship is about to land a cargo. The plane
can make a scouting expedition over the shore, too, for that matter.
You see a radio-controlled plane has an immense advantage for such
scout work, inasmuch as it proceeds practically without noise."
Captain Folsom slapped his knee resoundingly with an open palm.
"By George," he cried, "I believe you boys have hit it. This scout
plane is the answer to what has puzzled us the last few weeks. We know
liquor is being landed somewhere from ships, but despite our best
efforts both ashore and on the water, we have been unable to run down
the smuggling ships or the receiving parties ashore. Well, this plane
warns the ships away from the vicinity of the sub chasers, and also
directs the landing of the radio-controlled boats with their cargo at
lonely spots where there are no guards. Yes, sir, I believe that is
the way it has been worked."
He fell silent, and sat with brow wrinkled in concentrated thought.
The boys respected his silence, and also were busied with their own
thoughts.
"There is one thing that has got to be done," said Captain Folsom,
presently.
There was a gleam of determination in his eye.
"You mean the radio-controlled plane must be put out of commission?"
asked Frank quickly.
"You have read my thought," accused Captain Folsom. "Yes, that is just
what I was going to suggest. But how to do it, with no evidence
against Higginbotham or this mysterious individual living at the
Brownell house, is beyond me."
"Jack's a shark at the use of radio," declared Bob. "Perhaps he can
suggest some method."
All turned toward Jack.
"It wouldn't do, of course, to make a raid and capture the plane and
their radio plant?" Jack asked.
Captain Folsom shook his head.
"No," he said. "That wouldn't do, for a number of reasons. In the
first place, as I said, we have no evidence that would stand in court
that Higginbotham or anybody else connected with the matter is a
law-breaker. It may even be that whoever is behind the plot has
obtained a government license for the operation of the radio station.
The power of these bootleggers reaches far, and goes into high places.
Therefore, we cannot afford to make an open attack.
"But, in the second place," he added, leaning forward and uncrossing
his legs; "what good would that do? It would only warn the Man Higher
Up that we were on his track. We don't want him warned. We want to
close in on him. For I do believe you boys have given us a lead that
will enable us to do so. At the same time--we do want to put that
plane out of commission."
"Look here," said Jack, suddenly. "It's strange, if with our airplane
and our own radio plant, one of the most powerful private plants in
the world, certainly in America, it's strange, I say, if with this
equipment we are not enabled to work out some method for accomplishing
your ends.
"But, let's think it over. Let's sleep on it. I have the glimmerings
of an idea now. But I'm tired. It's been a hard day. Suppose we all
turn in and talk it over to-morrow morning."
"Good idea, Jack," declared Bob, yawning unrestrainedly. "I'm tired,
too."
"Very good," said Captain Folsom. "Meanwhile, I shall have to take
advantage of your kind offer to put me up for the night."
"No trouble at all," said Jack, heartily. "Come along. Night, fellows.
Come over to my house after breakfast. Night."
With mutual farewells the party broke up, Frank and Bob retiring to
their rooms, and Jack and his guest starting to make their way to the
Hampton home. On the part of none of them was there any prevision of
the strange events the night would bring forth.