DIXON STOCK DROPS
“JOE, you can keep yourself so easily out of sight, somehow, that I’m
going to use you to play the spy to-day,” hinted Captain Tom to his
chum, after the two had had an early breakfast together.
“I’m not afraid of anything you use me for,” Dawson retorted.
“You must have a better opinion of me than I have of myself sometimes,”
retorted the motor boat captain, thinking of his unintentional
eavesdropping of the night before.
“What do you want me to do?” Joe Dawson asked.
“You know the morning train that leaves here, for Washington and New
York?”
Joe nodded.
“Get aboard that train as soon as it comes in on the spur. If Oliver
Dixon is aboard of it, and doesn’t leave when the Tampa station is
reached, then jump out and telephone me here.”
“And then——?”
“Hustle aboard again, keeping Dixon in sight, but try to keep yourself
out of his line of vision.”
“Something must be in the wind,” commented Joe.
“Something _is_ in the wind,” his chum admitted. “If Oliver Dixon
tries to leave here to-day, then I shall go to Mr. Tremaine, and he’ll
very likely decide to have the authorities telegraph ahead to have
Dixon arrested. If that should happen, you’ll be there to see that the
officers don’t get someone else by mistake.”
“But Dixon might go around through the town of Tampa, instead,”
objected Joe. “He might be too smart to take the northbound train here
at the hotel.”
“Yes; or he might go through the town and take the Florida Central
train,” assented Halstead. “If he doesn’t leave here by the train, but
goes up through Tampa, then you, on board the train, will see him if
he gets aboard at the Tampa station. If he doesn’t go by that train,
you’ll be here in season to shadow him away in case he tries to leave
by the Florida Central. So he can’t start north to-day without our
knowing it. It’s best for you to do this work. Then, if Dixon is
watching me, he’ll find me sitting on one of the porch chairs from
which I couldn’t see him take the train. That will do a lot to throw
him off his guard.”
“I know my part, then,” agreed young Dawson. “I’ll do it, too.”
One of the railroads that enter Tampa goes on down to Port Tampa,
nine miles below. This road also maintains a spur entering the hotel
grounds. All through trains by this road arrive and depart on the spur.
Dixon, however, appeared about the lobby and the verandas that
forenoon, looking as though anything but flight was in his mind. Much
of his time he spent in the company of Henry Tremaine, and appeared
unusually lively and contented.
“No get-away for him,” decided Halstead, later. “He’s going to stay and
have some more tries at his luck with Miss Silsbee. Anyway, it’s too
late, now, for him to take the morning train north by either railway.”
Joe went as far as Tampa, of course without result. He took the street
car back to the hotel, reporting to Tom, by a mere signal, as he
passed, the fruitlessness of his mission. Then Joe hung about, in the
background, until after the time for the morning train to leave over
the Central road. At that time Dixon was chatting with Mr. and Mrs.
Tremaine and Ida Silsbee.
Further vigilance, for the present, therefore, seemed unnecessary.
Leaving Dixon with the other members of the party, the two motor boat
boys hurried over to the bathing pavilion for their morning salt water
swim.
It was just after one o’clock when the chums returned through the hotel
office.
“Captain Halstead!” called the clerk.
Tom hastened over to the desk.
“You’re just in time, Captain. Here’s a letter registered for you, and
under special delivery stamp. The young man just came in with it.”
“Let me have it quick, then, please,” Tom begged, turning upon the
messenger from the Tampa post office.
“Sign, first,” requested the messenger.
This Tom did in a hurry, then seized upon his letter. It was postmarked
at Tres Arbores, and the boy remembered the writing. The letter was
from Clayton Randolph, and repeated, in a more emphatic manner, the
news that the officer had already sent Halstead while he was at the
lake.
“I’m sending this just as you ask,” Randolph ran on, “though I don’t
suppose it’s necessary, because at the same time I sent you the other
letter, I dropped one for Mr. Tremaine in the Tres Arbores post
office. Of course he got it on his return to this town.”
“Of course he didn’t!” blazed Tom inwardly. “Oliver Dixon got the mail
there, and he was smart enough to keep Randolph’s letter from ever
reaching Mr. Tremaine.”
“Something interesting that you have?” smiled Joe, watching his chum’s
face.
“Interesting?” palpitated Tom Halstead. “Well, rather! Now, where’s Mr.
Tremaine?”—as the boys turned away from the desk.
“Speaking of angels,” returned Joe Dawson. “There he is coming in
through the doorway yonder.”
“I’ve got to see him on the jump, then. Come along.”
“What’s this?” demanded Henry Tremaine, as Tom almost breathlessly
thrust into his hands the letter just received.
“Read it,” begged Captain Halstead.
This the charter-man did, his face changing color as soon as he began
to understand.
“Dixon?” he faltered. “Oh, impossible! Yet—confound it! The case does
look black, doesn’t it? I must see Dixon, anyway. If this is injustice,
then he must have a chance to prove his innocence at once.”
“Do you know where he is?” Halstead inquired.
“No; the ladies have just passed through to luncheon, and they sent me
to find the young man. Now, I’m more than ever anxious to find him.”
Henry Tremaine looked worried, though he was not yet ready to believe
Dixon certainly guilty. Tremaine’s nature was a large one; he was
unsuspicious, usually. He hated to believe anyone guilty of real
wickedness.
“Ah, good morning, Mr. Tremaine,” came, cordially, from Mr. Haight, the
president of the bank, as that gentleman stepped inside from the porch.
“How do you do, Mr. Haight?” returned the perplexed Tremaine.
The bank president started to pass on, then turned.
“Oh, by the way, Mr. Tremaine, I was very glad to attend to your note
this morning——”
“My note?” demanded Tremaine.
“That is to say, the one you endorsed.”
“The note I endorsed?” gasped Henry Tremaine, paling. “Great Scott,
man, who presented it?”
“Do you mean to tell me, sir, that you don’t know of a note presented
to-day with your endorsement?” demanded President Haight, in great
agitation.
“Great Scott, man, I don’t!” cried Henry; Tremaine. “And I’m still
trying to find out who presented it.”
“Oliver Dixon,” rejoined Mr. Haight, in a sepulchral voice.
“Dixon? For how much?”
“Fifty thousand dollars.”
“Did he get the cash?”
“Good heavens, yes!” gasped Mr. Haight, now fully understanding that
the whole transaction had been wrong.
“In real money?” insisted Tremaine, on whose forehead the cold ooze now
began to stand out.
“Yes, sir; in banknotes. Don’t tell me, Tremaine, that your endorsement
was forged.”
“But it was! I have endorsed no notes for anybody.”
“Yet, if it wasn’t your signature, it was as good as a photograph of
your writing,” gasped Mr. Haight.
“Oh, Dixon has seen enough of my signature. He had no difficulty in
getting plenty of material in that line to copy. Oh—the miserable
scoundrel!”
Tom and Joe had heard this conversation quite unnoticed by either of
the distracted gentlemen.
“One thing,” cried Tremaine, hoarsely; “I don’t believe the fellow
can get far away from here before we can overtake him. This early
discovery is most fortunate!”
“He can’t get a train away before four o’clock,” broke in Tom Halstead,
energetically. “But he might get some kind of a craft out of Port
Tampa. Hadn’t you better get on the ’phone, quickly, and inform the
police! Also, you might inquire of the two station agents whether Dixon
has bought a ticket away from Tampa.”
“Yes! And you and Joe Dawson hustle over the hotel! We must get hold of
this precious, unmasked rascal! Come along, Haight!”
“I guess Dixon stock has dropped,” uttered Joe, grimly, as the two
motor boat boys hurried away.
As they were passing the entrance to the dining room they encountered
Mrs. Tremaine and Ida Silsbee coming out.
“We couldn’t wait for the rest of you,” confessed Mrs. Tremaine. “We’ve
lunched. But—what on earth——?”
“Oliver Dixon,” spoke Tom, in a cautious undertone, “has presented
a note for fifty thousand dollars at the bank, with Mr. Tremaine’s
endorsement forged on the note. It is feared he has gotten away with
the money.”
Joe, not caring to lose any time, had darted on ahead.
“Why—I—I—never believed him such a scoundrel,” gasped Mrs. Tremaine,
paling. She sank into a chair, trembling.
“The villain had the audacity, last night, to ask me to marry him,”
murmured Ida, in a low tone, clenching her hands tightly.
“I know it,” confessed Tom, bluntly. “I was in that room, behind the
draperies. I meant to reveal myself, but it was all out, and you two
turned from the room before I could decide what to do. Oh, I felt
miserably ashamed of myself for my eavesdropping.”
“You couldn’t help it, and you needn’t be ashamed,” retorted Ida
Silsbee. “Tom, I’m heartily glad I had a witness to my good judgment.”
“I’ve got his trail,” called Joe, softly, running back to join them.
“Dixon left twenty-five minutes ago, on a train going out from the spur
at this hotel.”
“Then he must have gone to Port Tampa,” breathed Tom, tensely.
“Yes—to the port,” Joe Dawson nodded.
“Then we’ve got to find Mr. Tremaine like lightning. There’s a speed
cruiser for charter down at the port. Dixon may even now be hustling
away on her,” cried Captain Halstead, springing away. “If he has done
that he can land on some wild part of the coast of Mexico, or transfer
to some ship bound for South America. The earth may swallow him up—him
and his booty!”
Leaving the ladies where they had first met them, the boys raced to
the telephone exchange. Here they encountered Tremaine and the bank
president.
“There’s just one thing to do, then,” responded Henry Tremaine. “I’ll
arrange for a special engine on the jump. Haight, you get a couple of
local officers here in a hurry. This is a felony charge, so they won’t
have to wait for warrants.”
In a few moments the local railway and police officials were busy. A
locomotive was quickly awaiting the party on the siding, where it was
coupled to a day coach. Two policemen in plain clothes arrived in an
automobile.
“Remember, I’m going with you,” cried Mrs. Tremaine, with more energy
than she had shown in years. “So is Ida. The poor child can’t be left
behind to wonder what luck we’re having.”
There wasn’t even time to object to taking the ladies along. They
hurried into the car, and the locomotive started, with a clear track
ahead.
“One little detail I haven’t found time to tell you, yet,” panted Mr.
Haight, after the engine had started down the single track to Port
Tampa. “Dixon also cashed with me a check for nine thousand dollars.”
“On the Ninth National, of New York?” Halstead asked.
“Yes.”
“Then I guess the check part is good, as far as you’re concerned,”
nodded Tremaine. “The nine thousand is probably part of the ten
thousand that the fellow stole from my stateroom on the ‘Restless’ and
sent to New York. Halstead has just put me straight on that matter.”
“Then he stole that money from your trunk?” asked Mrs. Tremaine,
opening her eyes very wide.
“Yes, my dear; we’ve every reason to think so. But tell me, Haight, how
did you come to cash that note so promptly—so—er—easily?”
“Why, you told me, only yesterday, my dear Tremaine, that you’d
cheerfully endorse any commercial paper that Dixon had or chose to
present,” replied the bank president.
Henry Tremaine groaned.
“That’s what comes of my being so cursed good-natured and obliging,” he
muttered, with a ghastly smile. “Now, see here, Haight, if it comes to
the worst, and your bank is up against a big loss, I’ll stand by what
I said yesterday. But I’m fairly itching to lay my fingers on Oliver
Dixon. The——”
He stopped immediately, aware of the presence of the ladies.
“I beg your pardon, my dear, and Ida,” said Tremaine. “I’m so angry
that I almost let violent language escape me.”
As the train sped along, with a clear track ahead and no stops
necessary, Mr. Haight went on to explain:
“Dixon told me he had closed negotiations for a fine place a little way
outside of Tampa; that he needed some of the cash for paying for the
place, and the rest to turn over to a contractor so that improvements
on the place could start at once. It all sounded fearfully plausible;
and, with your ready and extensive guarantee for young Dixon——”
“Please don’t remind me of my idiocy again until I’ve had time to pull
up a notch,” begged Tremaine.
The two Tampa officers had seated themselves together at the forward
end of the car. They were lean, quiet men, of undying nerve, and crack
shots in the moment of need.
It did not take long to haul the one-car special down to the port. As
the train began to run out onto the long mole, all hands in the car
crowded at the forward doorway.
Before the engine came to a full stop Tom Halstead and Joe Dawson were
off and running at a great burst of speed for the extreme end of the
mole. Halstead was the first to gain it.
“The ‘Buzzard’ is gone from anchorage,” he cried, as his gaze swept the
harbor.
“That little bit of hull we can see away down past the harbor looks
like the ‘Buzzard’ heading south,” declared Joe.
“It must be,” nodded Tom Halstead. “But Jeff will very likely know.”
A busily-throbbing little naphtha launch was hovering close in the
water.
“Hurry in for a fare, can you?” shouted Captain Halstead, framing his
mouth with his hands.
The launch turned in at the float, and by this time the other members
of the party had hastened up.
“Out to the ‘Restless’, and give your whistle head enough so that our
man on board will hear you,” cried Tom, as the launch cast off.
In response to the screeches of the whistle Jeff Randolph soon appeared
on the deck of the motor cruiser, waving his arms in answer.
“Get everything ready for a lightning start!” yelled the young skipper
over the water. This Joe supplemented with some strenuous signals.
“Do you know whether that’s the ‘Buzzard’ vanishing to the southward?”
demanded young Captain Halstead, the instant he clambered over the side.
“Yes; it is,” nodded Jeff, promptly.