THE "JUMP SPARK."
Into the grounds of one of the finest homes on "Fourth Lake Ridge,"
otherwise known as "Aristocracy Hill," Matt backed the little runabout.
A brick-paved roadway, overarched with trees, led from the front of the
premises to the neat garage in the rear.
A middle-aged gentleman, stout of build and with a florid face, was
sitting on the veranda of the house. The runabout, worrying backward
up the street and into the yard, was an astonishing sight. The
middle-aged gentleman leaned against the rail and stared; then, waving
a newspaper which he held in his hand, he shouted something and hurried
down the steps and toward the driveway.
"Dad!" murmured Miss Lorry, with an apprehensive glance at Matt.
A man--probably the Lorry chauffeur--appeared in the open door of the
garage and stared at the runabout in open-mouthed amazement.
Matt brought the car to a stop, and Mr. Lorry came puffing up alongside.
"What in the world's the matter, Ethel?" he demanded, his eyes swerving
from his daughter to Matt.
"I smashed the low gear, dad, and had to come in on the reverse," Miss
Lorry answered. "I was just coming into the Waunakee road, two or three
miles the other side of Maple Bluff, when the gear went wrong."
Mr. Lorry's eyes continued to rest on Matt, and they were becoming
uncomfortably inquisitive. He was wondering, no doubt, who Matt was,
how he came to be in the car, and why his daughter did not introduce
him.
"Call Gus," went on Miss Lorry, jumping lightly out of the car, "and
have him run _Dandy_ into the garage. Gus will know what to send for in
order to make the runabout as good as new again."
Without waiting to speak further, the girl whirled about and ran into
the house. Mr. Lorry stared after her, and then turned to give Matt
another look.
"Are you a chauffeur?" he asked.
"I have been--a racing chauffeur," Matt answered, springing to the
ground, "but I haven't been driving a car for some time."
"You helped my daughter--that much is plain, even though I _have_ been
left in the dark on several other points."
"I was coming into town along the Waunakee road," Matt went on, "to see
you."
"To see me?" Mr. Lorry's interest visibly increased.
"Yes, sir, on very important business. I happened to meet Miss Lorry
and she kindly gave me a ride into town. The least I could do was to
run her machine for her."
"Did you know Miss Lorry?"
"Not until she told me who she was."
"Quite a coincidence that you should meet her, when you were coming
into town to see her father. But come up on the veranda--we'll be more
comfortable there." Mr. Lorry turned toward the garage. "The runabout's
in trouble, Gus," he called. "Take it into the garage, see what it
needs, then order whatever's necessary. This way, sir," he added to
Matt.
While Gus removed the runabout to the garage, Matt followed Mr. Lorry
up the steps to the veranda and seated himself in a chair.
"I don't remember ever seeing you before," remarked Mr. Lorry as he
sat down close to Matt, picked up a fan, and began stirring the air in
front of his perspiring face. "But I'm obliged to you for giving Ethel
a helping hand. I'm worried to death every time she's out with _Dandy_.
It wasn't more than a week ago that she came near going over a bluff at
McBride's Point."
Matt lost no time in plunging into his business. Drawing the draft from
his pocket, he handed it to Mr. Lorry.
"Part of my work," said he, "is to give you that."
Mr. Lorry stared at the draft and opened his eyes wide.
"Ten thousand dollars!" he exclaimed, "and it's made payable to Joseph
McGlory."
"On the back, sir, you will see that Joe had indorsed it over to you."
Mr. Lorry turned over the oblong slip of paper; then, suddenly, an idea
darted through his mind and he stiffened in his chair.
"Is this--is this----"
"It is the money George took when he left Madison," said Matt, dropping
his voice.
Mr. Lorry's face hardened.
"Then," said he raspingly, "inasmuch as you're not McGlory, I suppose
you're that young rascal, Matt King, better known as Motor Matt."
"My name is Matt King, sir," answered Matt, "and you have no right to
refer to me as a rascal."
"I have, by gad," exploded Mr. Lorry, "and a very good right! I've
heard about you, sir. You're the lad who was hand-and-glove with the
three villains who made George so much trouble on account of this
money. I wonder that you have the face to show yourself to me. Do you
know what I could do with you?"
A hostile red had leaped into Mr. Lorry's face. As Matt sat back and
looked at him, he likened his anger to a "jump spark."
The "make and break" system of ignition, while electrically simple, is
complicated mechanically. The "jump spark" system, on the other hand,
while complicated electrically is mechanically very simple.
A simple error of some sort lay back of Mr. Lorry's anger, but it found
vent in mighty puzzling expressions.
"Who is your authority for the statement that I was hand-and-glove with
the three men who robbed George?" asked Matt calmly.
"I decline to quote anybody."
"You can ask McGlory, or George, about me," proceeded Matt, "and I
think they will tell you that if it hadn't been for me that money would
never have been recovered."
"You have pulled the wool over McGlory's eyes, and over George's, too.
But where's my son? Why didn't he bring this money to me himself? Why
was it necessary for him to send it at the hands of a stranger?"
"Your son is a few miles out of town. He did not leave San Francisco
willingly, and it was only by promising him that we would not take him
directly into Madison that we got his consent to come with us."
"A fine lay-out!" muttered Mr. Lorry. "The boy's got to come here,
sooner or later, and what is he to gain by delaying the matter? Can't
he realize how worried all of us are?"
"He feels the disgrace of his position very keenly, Mr. Lorry."
"Bosh! Not much of what he's done is known to outsiders, and those who
know, or think they know, anything about it, will forget the whole
business within a week after George gets back."
"Are you going to send George to military school, Mr. Lorry?"
At that the "jump spark" seemed about to set off an explosion. Mr.
Lorry twisted angrily in his chair.
"What business is it of yours, young man?" he snapped. "That boy has
got to realize that he isn't of age yet, and I'm not going to let him
run wild and bring disgrace on himself, and on me."
"Mr. Lorry," said Matt earnestly, "I have tried to be a good friend to
your son, and it was your request, contained in the telegram you sent
to San Francisco, that I come with him and McGlory, that brought me
here. I won't tell you what I have done--I will leave that to George
and his cousin--but I will tell you, as plainly as I can, that George
is just now in a place where he must be treated with consideration. One
false move would prove his ruin, and----"
"By gad," interrupted Mr. Lorry, "do you mean to sit there and lecture
_me_? Why, I'm old enough to be your father! Such impudence as that
is----"
"Sir," protested Matt, "I'm not impudent. I know George pretty well,
and I want to do what I can for him. He's got lots of pride, and he had
his heart set on getting a power-boat that would make a good showing in
the coming race of the Winnequa Yacht Club. He had talked about what he
was going to do to members of the club, and when he ordered that boat
and you refused to pay for it and let it be sent back to the builders,
the blow to his pride started him off on the wrong course."
"A five-thousand-dollar boat, by gad!" growled Mr. Lorry. "His whims
were getting too confoundedly expensive. If his pride is going to
suffer every time I put my foot down on such a piece of folly, then
he'll have to pocket his pride. I'm his father, and I guess he'll have
to toe the mark for me for a while yet."
"There's a way to make George the happiest fellow in Madison, Mr.
Lorry," Matt went on, "and it won't cost you more than two hundred and
fifty or three hundred dollars. I know a good deal about motors, and
I'll help George fix up a boat that will win a prize in that yacht club
race----"
"Not a cent more will he get from me!" stormed Mr. Lorry. "He'll come
back here, and he'll go to that military school, and if what you call
his 'pride' keeps him from being a dutiful son, then his pride will be
broken. Where is he? Where did you leave him?"
"If you go out to where he is now, without first giving him a chance
to----"
Mr. Lorry leaned forward and shook a finger in Matt's face.
"If you want to keep yourself out of trouble, my lad, you'll tell me
where that boy is, and no more ifs nor ands about it."
Matt got up slowly. He was white, but none the less determined.
"I am George's friend, Mr. Lorry," said he, "and I had to promise him
that I would help him do certain things here in Madison in order to get
him safely back from the West. If I tell you where he is, while you
feel as you do toward him, I would be breaking my promise. He is well,
and he will be here in a few days. As for the rest, if you want to make
trouble for me, why, go ahead."
Intensely disappointed with the result of his interview, Matt passed
down the steps and toward the street. Mr. Lorry gasped wrathfully and
watched as he left the yard, but he made no attempt to interfere with
him.
Matt was hardly out of sight, however, before he ran into the house and
began using the telephone.