Lawrence could scarcely credit his good fortune. After a little he tried
to change his position, and found that he was so cramped that he could
scarcely move. Carefully he took his pocket flash out of his pocket and,
turning it around, acquainted himself with the position of the doors. He
also saw the cigarette which the Rattlesnake, as Lawrence henceforth
called "Mr. Smith," had dropped, and he crawled over and put it in his
pocket. Then with the utmost caution he made his way back to the small
door which still swung open, and with a smile at the carelessness of the
men, he made his way out. He had gone a hundred yards perhaps when a
thought struck him, and he retraced his steps. Once more entering the
hangar, he approached the machine nearest him, paused beside it for five
or ten minutes, passed on to the next where he stood for the same time,
and then went to the big dirigible. With a chuckle he waved a hand at
the silent aircraft, and for the last time passed through the door. This
time he closed it, and finding a spring lock hooked carelessly through a
strong staple, he adjusted it and clasped the lock. The hangar was
securely fastened. Lawrence judged, and correctly, that when the men
returned in the morning each would think that one of the others had
closed and locked the small door, and not caring to be caught in so
flagrant a piece of carelessness, not one would confess that he had
forgotten it.
As for the boy, he sped rapidly back across the country he had traversed
earlier in the evening and by great good fortune caught a train to
Washington about two minutes after reaching the little station. As no
one had seen him arrive, his departure was not noteworthy.
Lawrence was tired out when the train reached Washington, and he thought
with dread of the long trolley ride to the Heights, when he happened to
remember that he was now able to afford any number of taxis. He stepped
into one at the door of the station, and luxuriously giving his street
and number, he leaned back and dozed all the way home.
O'Brien was there before him, a worried man.
"Now then," said he, "where have ye been the while?" He shoved a chair
toward Lawrence and offered him a ham sandwich from a paper bag.
Lawrence took it eagerly. "You look dead beat and starved and ginnerally
tired out. What's the word?"
"You are going to be mad," said Lawrence, "because you told me not to do
something and I did it."
"Then consider me frothin', and tell me what's what and get it over
with. Sure, these fits of temper are bad for me heart."
"All right," said Lawrence, and he proceeded to tell O'Brien his
evening's adventure. When he produced the cigarette O'Brien took it with
careful fingers.
"Whew!" he said as he examined the paper, smelled the tobacco, and tried
to make out the interwoven letters of the intricate monogram.
"It looks like r'yalty," he said finally. "Those same cost, me boy, they
cost! I only wish you had had a look at the gentleman. Well, I should
say you had a narrow escape. I don't like it all the same, although we
know more than we did. Mr. Ridgeway is a bit close, too. We didn't know
it was jools like that that we were handlin', did we?"
"We haven't handled them yet," said Lawrence. "But I reckon they are
just where Mr. Smith said they are, and it looks as though we were going
to have to cart them somewhere or other. I don't see why we take the
dirigible," said Lawrence, "when the planes are faster."
"There is some good reason," said O'Brien. "For instance, that dirigible
will carry a crew large enough to give a pretty good fight if it was
necessary. That's _one_ thing. Another is that Mr. Ridgeway doesn't know
that they know anything about the freight he is to carry. Gee, there is
a leak somewhere! That's one thing. Now to bed with you, me wild
adventurer, and get some sleep what's left of the night. We will have to
see Mr. Ridgeway the morn, so he can talk to us. I called there tonight
and found him much better. Get you to bed, and don't talk. I want to
think. Somewhere or other I have seen a mate to this cigarette."
He carefully wrapped it in a bit of paper and put it in his cigar case.
"That's a good souvenir," he remarked, nodding his head.
Lawrence tumbled into bed. He was too tired to realize the narrow escape
he had had, and wanted nothing more than a good sleep. He did not
realize his fatigue either, and when he awoke in the morning he found
that what he had thought was the dimness of early dawn was the darkness
of closely drawn blinds. O'Brien had tricked him. There was a note on
the dresser, and Lawrence read:
"Dear Lawrence:
"There's no place so safe for a lad of your tendencies as the
same cot you are snoring on at this second. I leave you to your
dreams and hope they are sweet. As for me, I am pulling down the
blinds and disconnecting the telephone, and then I am makin'
off: for I have a pretty idea all of my own. I will see you
later. By the way, you took my gloves last night, and I can find
but one. If you have lost that glove it costs you a pretty
penny, gloves being in a high altitude since the late war.
Good-bye. Go see what is happening to the dirigible, go see Mr.
Ridgeway, go to a movie, go have a good time however you like
but don't you _dare_ follow any clues today. Against orders, and
meet me here; HERE, mind you, at seven tonight. I may have news.
"O'BRIEN."
After he had had a meal which was neither breakfast nor luncheon, but
combined all the most agreeable features of both, commencing with
grapefruit and cereal and ending with pie, Lawrence went out to the
Aviation Field, where he found the men busily working on the dirigible.
A week at most would find it in working order again. O'Brien was not
there. After taking a little flight in his favorite plane, a flight
which took him over the scene of last night's adventure, he came down,
and returned to the apartment where he loafed and read until seven, when
O'Brien came in.
"I flew over that field again this afternoon," said Lawrence. "I did not
see a soul."
"That's all right," said his friend. "I have been there all day meself
in a tree-top, with a pair of glasses strong enough to spot the Queen of
England powdering her nose from the base of the Statue of Liberty. There
was not a sign of 'em and I have it all worked out. They know we can't
use the dirigible, and of course by now they know the minute when it
will be in shape again. So why work? Why hang around that bleak spot?
And Mr. Ridgeway being laid up, there's no use for Mr. Smith to sit with
his ear glued to the listening post down there below Ridgeway's office.
No. It's all hands take a vacation, and I'm thinkin' I will do the same.
I am going on a still hunt for our dear little book agent."
"I forgot to tell you," said Lawrence, "that before I left there last
night, I fixed all three machines so they won't fly very soon. I learned
a few twists back in the aircraft factory, and I can put a plane out of
tune so no one will guess that it has been touched, but there is the
mischief to pay. And I touched up the dirigible too. Just a screw or two
loose, and a couple of pinholes where they will do the most good."
"You are like a woman's postscript," said O'Brien. "All the meat of the
letter in it."
"I meant to tell you before," said Lawrence. "Well, if you are going
after the Smith man, what am _I_ to do?"
"Go see Mr. Ridgeway and tell him all this you have told me. Take the
cigarette; it's evidence."
"Suppose we go to the theatre tonight," suggested Lawrence. "I have not
seen a show in a month of Sundays."
"Sunday is no day to go to shows on, anyhow," said O'Brien with mock
severity. "But this bein' a weekday it's not against me conscience to
accompany you."
They decided on the vaudeville, and securing good seats settled down to
an evening's enjoyment.
At the beginning of the second act two men came in and took the seats
just behind them. As they fumbled for the hat-clips under the seats and
leaned close to O'Brien's broad shoulders, Lawrence heard one say to the
other, "Did you bring the key to the hangar?" and the other answered
swiftly, "No; Mr. Smith took it."
Lawrence felt his blood stop in its course. For a moment he could
scarcely breathe. Two of the mysterious men were behind them! He dared
not say much to O'Brien, but he whispered, as the orchestra blared out a
jazz accompaniment to a dancer: "See who is behind you?"
O'Brien turned. To Lawrence's utter amazement, he nodded gaily and said,
"Good evenin', Brown! A good show, I'm thinkin'."
"It seems to be, Mr. O'Brien," said the slow, deep voice Lawrence so
well remembered.
The boy's head whirled. O'Brien knew the man!
Between the acts, in the intermission, Lawrence led the way out to the
sidewalk. He was shaking.
"Those men!" he managed to stutter. "Those men behind us! They were in
that card game!"
"Crazy!" said O'Brien calmly. "The big one works at the Aviation Field.
He's a good worker, but mortal stupid."
"Oh, _believe_ me, O'Brien!" begged Lawrence. "I know them both. They
were sitting so I could see their shapes, and just now I heard the big
one ask the other if he had the key to the hangar, and he said, no,
Smith had it."
"Why, I _know_ the man," insisted O'Brien again. "He don't know enough
to be in a plot."
"That's just what Smith said," said Lawrence. "He said they could be
feet and hands, and he would be the head. That is why everything goes
wrong with the dirigible. He is right there where he can do what he
likes, and _you_ trust him."
O'Brien laughed and patted the boy on the shoulder. "This thing is
getting on your nerves," he said soothingly. "However, come back and
have another look at your two friends."
"No," said Lawrence. "You go back, and I will wait outside, and when
they come out I shall follow them. They don't know that we came
together. We didn't talk much and they will just think I met you in the
theatre."
"Have it your own way," said O'Brien. "I will say the remarks were
suspicious enough, but I tell you, man, I know that fellow."
"All right," said Lawrence doggedly. "I mean to know him, too, before I
get through with him. I have not seen him at the Field since I came.
Where does he keep himself?"
"Dunno," said O'Brien. "I will find out."
He went back into the theatre and sat down. As soon as the curtain went
down on the next act, he turned and spoke to the big man.
"Are you working at the Field yet, Brown?"
"No, I quit a week ago," said Brown, leaning forward. "I couldn't stand
the foreman they have out there. A mean, suspicious lunkhead, always
snooping around and giving orders." He laughed uneasily. "So I quit."
"Out of a job, are you?" said O'Brien.
"Yes, I am," said Brown.
"Well, I don't blame you much," said O'Brien. "That foreman is a
disagreeable cuss. If I can help you any way, let me know."
"Thanks," from Brown. "I am thinking some of going away. If I stay here
I will let you know."
"Do!" urged O'Brien. "I wouldn't like to miss seein' you."
The next act came on, and O'Brien turned to the stage. He missed seeing
the glance that passed from one man to the other, and chuckled as he
thought of the fancy Lawrence had had. When the show was over, the two
men walked down toward the caf├ęs, and O'Brien was amused to see the
slight figure of Lawrence sliding along after them. His collar was
turned up, and his soft hat had disappeared. In its place was a plaid
cap.
"Detective stuff!" laughed O'Brien. "The kid is having the time of his
life. But it does seem queer. However, there's no distress about the
affair so long as I can see. We wait our chance, and off we go with our
precious bundles when they are not looking. It is too simple to be
funny. They have overstepped with their slugging Mr. Ridgeway and
cutting up our dirigible. They can't hurt us now. Forewarned is
forearmed."
He strolled along until he came to The Willard, where he went in and
approaching the news stand commenced to look for a magazine that was
adventurous enough to suit his fancy. As he stooped, the man beside him
let a cigarette fall from his hand. Someone had jostled him. It dropped
directly under O'Brien's eyes, and gleaming up at him he saw the
intricate gold monogram of Smith's cigarette. Before he could straighten
up and face the man, a foot was planted on the cigarette and he rose to
see no one but an old gentleman beside him smoking a fat black havana.
It was certainly not Smith. Besides, a voice loudly proclaimed the old
gentleman as "Hemmingway, old boy," and O'Brien, furious with his luck,
hung around the lobby for hours, hoping for another chance to see the
expensive monogram and delicate cork tip.
After awhile he gave up and went back to the apartment that he now
shared with Lawrence.
The boy was there before him, walking the floor in a great state of
excitement.
"Well, O'Brien," he burst out, "I ran them down!"