CLANCY REACHES LOS ANGELES.
The Renfrew House was a very modest hostelry in South Hill Street. Hiram
stopped there because the establishment was in Hill Street, and he
believed in omens. Incidentally, too, he preferred the Renfrew to the
Alexandria or the Hayward because the rates on the American plan were
two dollars a day.
It was about eleven o'clock Monday morning when Clancy entered the lobby
of the Renfrew House. The lobby was crowded, bell hops were hustling
back and forth, and the place was as busy as a high-class establishment.
Clancy stood at the counter, caught the clerk's eye, and asked for Hiram
Hill. The clerk, who had curly hair, and parted it squarely in the
middle, forthwith gave the newcomer his full and complete attention.
"You a friend of that guy's?" the clerk asked.
"Yes," acknowledged Clancy.
"Then I'm mighty glad you showed up."
"Why?"
"Well, I think he's locoed and needs a keeper. About every day he does
some fool thing."
Clancy grinned.
"What has he done to-day?"
"Nothing yet, but he's due to break out 'most any minute. You wait
around a spell and you'll---"
The clerk was interrupted by a wild whoop of "Dad! here's Hiram!" Clancy
looked in the direction from which the yell came and saw a little group
of people heaving around the lobby in excitement.
"That's him, now!" cried the clerk. "What did I tell you?"
The motor wizard hurried toward the scene of the commotion. He found a
fat man pounding a dent out of the crown of a shabby silk hat, and
mumbling wrathfully.
"Get an officer!" shouted the fat man. "I don't know but I'm robbed!"
Hiram Hill stood in front of the aggrieved gentleman, stood and stared
at him blankly.
"I--I thought you was my dad," murmured Hiram.
"Your dad?" repeated the fat man, glaring. "You ought to be arrested for
that, anyhow. I refuse to be insulted, by gorry! What's your name,
anyhow?"
The fat man was feeling about his person, making sure that his watch,
pocketbook, and other person property were safe.
"That mole on the back of your neck," explained Hiram, "was what caused
me to make the bobble."
"Well," snorted the fat man, walking off, "don't make any more bobbles
around me, or there'll be trouble. It's my opinion that you're crazy."
The crowd set up a laugh. Clancy elbowed his way to Hill's side and took
him by the hand.
"Howdy, Hiram?" said he.
"Clancy!" exclaimed Hill. "Say, the sight of you is good for sore eyes!
I just been hankerin' for a friend."
"You need a guardeen more'n a friend," remarked some one.
Hill began to bristle and to look around in search of the one who had
spoken. Clancy grabbed his arm, and drew him away down the lobby to a
couple of leather chairs.
"What's the matter with you, Hiram?" the motor wizard asked.
"I reckon my nerves have got twisted, Clancy," Hill answered. "I'm all
in a twitter, seems like. Ever since I piped off dad in that automobile
last Saturday mornin' I haven't been able to look around without seein'
some un I think's him. Queer, ain't it? I'm all flustered."
"Better put the clamps on your nerves, Hiram, or you'll be in jail the
first thing you know."
"How's the shoulder?"
"Coming along in fine shape."
"I didn't know whether you'd be able to answer that there telegram of
mine in person, and if you was able, I didn't know whether you would."
"Look here, Hiram," said Clancy, "didn't I tell you I'd help you find
your father if you'd keep mum about what Lafe Wynn did?"
"Uh-huh."
"Well, I always try to pay my debts."
"Got any trace o' Gerald Wynn, Burton, and Katz yet?"
"No."
"Then that fifteen thou' is gone for good?"
"I'm afraid so. But let's not talk about that. You say you're hot on the
trail of your father. Tell me about it."
Hiram started with the Chinese procession at Sixth and Main Streets.
Very earnestly he told how he had disrupted the dragon, and he described
other events that happened down to the point where he found himself with
the extra Stetson in his hand.
"That hat," declared Hiram, "sure belonged to dad. I got it away from
him somehow, and I hung to it all the while my wits was woolgatherin'
and I was bein' toted to a drug store. Then I--- Say, what you laughin'
at?"
Clancy had been enjoying Hill's recital to the limit it would be hard to
mix six dozens of eggs, a Chinese dragon, and a runaway monkey into a
small-sized riot and not get a little fun out of it. The sober,
matter-of-fact way in which Hiram narrated the details added to the
humor of the story.
"Never mind what I'm laughing at, Hiram," sputtered Clancy, wiping his
eyes. "You say you found something under the sweatband of that Stetson.
What was it?"
"A card. Here it is."
Hill thrust a hand into one of his pockets and drew forth an oblong
square of pasteboard. This he handed to his companion.
"Sr. J. Lopez," was the name on the card, followed by the address:
"Avalon, Catalina Island, California." Then in the lower left-hand
corner, were the words: "Representing the Fortunatus Syndicate, of Tia
Juana, Mexico."
"What do you make out of this, Hiram?" the motor wizard asked.
"What do you make out of it?" countered Hill.
"If you are sure the Stetson belonged to the man in the automobile--to
the man whom you thought was your father---"
"I'll take my solemn Alfred on that!"
"Well, if this is the man's business card, it proves that the man is J.
Lopez--and he can't be your father."
"That's not his business card, Clancy."
"How do you know?"
"There was two gilt letters pasted in the crown o' that Stetson, and
them letters was 'U. H.' Sabe? My dad's name is Upton Hill."
Clancy was suitably impressed.
"Well, who's this J. Lopez and the Fortunatus Syndicate?" he inquired.
"Those are two things we ought to find out."
"I'm wise to the Fortunatus Syndicate, all right," said Hill. "You
remember I was down in Tia Juana, that time I got hornswoggled out o'
five hundred dollars by Gerald Wynn. Well, I heard about this Fortunatus
Syndicate while I was in the place. Some Americanos are planning a
gambling resort, just across the boundary line, and they call their
company the Fortunatus Syndicate."
"And your dad's mixed up with it, Hiram? That doesn't speak very well
for him."
"Maybe he's mixed up in it, and maybe he isn't. I wouldn't go and
connect him with any gamblin' syndicate just because I found that there
card under the sweatband of his Stetson. What do you allow is the thing
for us to do? My hand's on the table, Clancy, and I want you to help me
play it."
"Strikes me," said Clancy reflectively, "that the best move is to go
across to Catalina Island and talk with this man Lopez."
"I allowed we'd better, advertise in the papers," remarked Hill. "We
could use the Lost and Found Column."
"How?"
"Well, we could say, 'Lost--One man about fifty with a squinch eye, a
Roman nose, and a mole on the back of his neck. Answers to name of Upton
Hill. Communicate with Hiram Hill, Renfrew House, City.' And then we
could put in another, like this: 'Found--One black Stetson, initials "U.
H." in crown. Picked up corner Sixth and Maine time the chink dragon went
to pieces. Communicate with Hiram Hill, and so forth.' I don't see any
use in huntin' up this Lopez."
"Your father must have, business, with Lopez, Hiram, or he wouldn't be
having the Mexican's card. Would he?"
"I reckon not."
"It's likely your father is over at Catalina now. If we go to the
island and hunt up Lopez, there's a chance of our locating Upton
Hill--or the man you think is Upton Hill."
"Maybe you're right," said Hill.
"I don't think advertising would do any good. Your supposed father
didn't seem very enthusiastic about meeting you, the time you landed on
him in the automobile."
Hill's cross eyes blinked.
"It was the way I come at him," said he. "I been thinkin' since. There
was a hull lot of excitement, and I'll gamble dad didn't have time to
get the run o' what was happenin'. He didn't have no good chance to be
affectionate."
"I suppose not," returned Clancy, trying hard to keep a straight face.
"The trail seems to be a pretty warm one, all right, and--- Where are
you going?"
Clancy broke off his remarks to grab hold of Hiram and restrain him. The
tow-headed chap had suddenly leaped out of his chair like a restive wild
cat.
"Ain't that dad over yonder?" he asked. "I see a feller that seems to be
built on the same lines of the photograft, but--n-n-no," he finished
musingly, "that feller's a Mexican."
"Letter for you, Mr. Hill," said a bell boy, coming across the lobby
from the clerk's desk.
Hill took the letter wonderingly, stared at it, tore it open, and then
sank into a chair while he read the communication. Presently he began to
breathe hard, and to gurgle in his throat.
"I knew the old man didn't have a marble heart," he muttered joyfully.
"I reckoned he'd come around, if I'd only give him time enough. The
trail's a short one, Clancy, and it leads to San Diego instead of to
Catalina. There," and he thrust the letter into the motor wizard's hand,
"read that."