THE BROKER'S GAME.
The remarks of the landlord, in front of the hotel, had given McGlory
and Cameron a clue of which they were not slow to take advantage.
Here was Motor Matt's enemy, the very man who had set in motion the
plot which, through Hackberry, had lured the king of the motor boys
into Wells County on a useless quest.
Coolly enough Murgatroyd brought his car to a stop in front of the
hotel and faced the angry lieutenant and cowboy.
"Your name Murgatroyd?" demanded Cameron.
"My name, yes, sir," answered the broker, half turning in his seat so
as to command a better view of the lieutenant. "But," he added quietly,
"I believe that you have the advantage of me."
"Cameron's my name."
"Ah!" A flash crossed Murgatroyd's face. "I might have known who you
were, just by seeing you with McGlory there. This is a fortunate
meeting."
"Fortunate!" cried McGlory, dancing around the front of the car. "Speak
to me about that! I should say it was fortunate, you old tinhorn--for
us, if not for you. What's this game you've put up on Motor Matt?"
"If we do any talking," said the broker mildly, "you'll have to express
yourself in terms that I can understand."
"You'll savvy a heap before we're done with you."
"Just a minute," went on Murgatroyd. "My niece is in the car with me,
and I think it well that she should not listen to your violent talk."
He looked around. "Amy----"
The girl was white, but she made no attempt to get out of the tonneau.
"I'm not going to leave, Uncle Amos," said she. "I want to hear more of
this talk."
"You will please obey me, Amy, and leave the car."
"It is your car," she answered, "and I haven't any right to stay in it
if you don't want me to."
Cameron opened the door for her and held out his hand to help her down.
She paid no attention to the extended hand, but passed into the hotel.
"Before we begin," proceeded Murgatroyd, "let me ask you if you
recognize this watch."
He offered the timepiece as he finished.
"It's Matt's!" exclaimed McGlory, snatching the watch.
"Him Motol Matt's clock, allee light," breathed Ping. The hotel
proprietor was the only person, besides Cameron, McGlory, and Ping,
within reach of the broker's words.
"This conversation is of a private nature, Brackett," said Murgatroyd
significantly, "even though it is taking place in the street in front
of your hotel."
Brackett excused himself and passed around the corner of the building.
"That watch," proceeded the broker, "will prove to you that your friend
is in my hands. He is being kept safely in a place which you will not
be able to find. I have written three letters, one to you, Lieutenant
Cameron, one to McGlory, and one to Mrs. Traquair. It will not be
necessary to post two of them, for I can tell you, face to face, what
the letters contain.
"The one to you, Cameron, has to do with some little unpleasantness
connected with the aëroplane trials recently held at Fort Totten.
Siwash Charley and, through him, myself were wrongly suspected of
complicity in an accident connected with the flying machine. This has
been very annoying to me. Your letter contained the information that,
other matters being satisfactorily adjusted, your friend Motor Matt
would be released under written promise from the authorities at Fort
Totten to give over persecuting me and Siwash Charley for a crime of
which we are entirely innocent."
McGlory, to put it figuratively, immediately "went up in the air."
Before he could air his views, however, Cameron silenced him with a
look.
"Motor Matt, according to your proposition, as I understand it,"
returned the lieutenant calmly, "is to be released providing the
military authorities promise you and Siwash Charley immunity?"
"That is one of the conditions governing the release," answered
Murgatroyd.
"What are the other conditions?"
"Well, the letter to McGlory contained that. Mrs. Traquair, as
satisfaction for the mortgage which I hold against the Traquair
homestead, west of here, is to turn over the quarter section to me.
That is all. My letter to Mrs. Traquair contains that proposition, and
my letter to McGlory requests him to write Mrs. Traquair that what I
say, regarding the capture of Motor Matt, is true. McGlory is also to
advise her to accept my terms. If those terms are accepted, and if
the authorities at Fort Totten agree not to persecute me, or Siwash
Charley, any further, Motor Matt will be released."
The cowboy was so full of language that he could hardly restrain
himself. Cameron laid a hand on his arm and pushed him away.
"Murgatroyd," said the lieutenant, "you have just made the most
impudent and brazen proposition I ever heard. You deliberately plan and
commit a crime, and then plan and commit another to save you from legal
responsibility for both."
"You look at it in a prejudiced way," returned the broker, apparently
not in the least ruffled. "What is your answer?"
The lieutenant was thoughtful for a space.
"I have no power to promise you immunity," said he.
"You will take it up with your superior officer at Fort Totten?"
"I won't say that, but I will say that I will think it over."
"That is all I can ask. How about you, McGlory?"
"Sufferin' wildcats!" gurgled McGlory. "Have I got to answer that? Have
I----"
"He'll think it over, Murgatroyd," broke in Cameron, "just as I intend
doing. Where is Motor Matt?"
"That is my secret," and the wily broker actually smiled.
"Is he far from here?"
"Another secret. While you are thinking the matter over, I will hunt
for a place to stow my car."
He got out to use the crank, and Cameron caught McGlory's arm and led
him into the hotel.
"Why didn't I hit him?" the cowboy was murmuring dazedly. "Why didn't
you let me hit him, Cameron, or else hit him yourself?"
"Because, McGlory, we've got to talk this over and---- Ah!" The
lieutenant broke off as a slender form swept toward him across the
office. "This is the young lady, I believe, who was in the car with Mr.
Murgatroyd?"
The girl was still pale, but there was resolution in her face and
manner.
"I have not much time to talk," said she, "for what I say must be said
before my uncle comes in. Mr. Murgatroyd is my uncle. I am a school
teacher and live in Fargo with my mother. For some time I have been
in poor health, and Mr. Murgatroyd suggested that I take an automobile
trip with him through this part of the country, where he was coming
to look up some of his investments. For a few days our headquarters
have been here. Yesterday afternoon we were riding to the north and
west of Sykestown when an aëroplane came sailing toward us, dropped
down close to the automobile, and a young man whom I afterward learned
was Motor Matt hailed my uncle and asked him some question. When my
uncle answered, Motor Matt seemed to recognize him, and tried to turn
the air ship away. My uncle had a rifle near him, and he fired at the
aëroplane, injuring the machinery so that it fell and----
"No," the girl broke off, seeing the look of alarm that crossed the
faces of her auditors. "Motor Matt was not seriously injured, but the
aëroplane was damaged. This happened about ten miles out, on the road
to Jessup's. My uncle turned around and took me to Jessup's, where he
left me. I am very sure that he then went some place, secured Siwash
Charley to help him, and made a prisoner of Motor Matt. I do not know
where your friend was taken, but it could not have been a great way
from Jessup's home--west of the road, I think, and along the base of
the hills, for that is the way my uncle came when he returned to the
farmhouse. We stayed at Jessup's all night and came here this morning.
On the way, we passed the aëroplane, and my uncle got out, looked the
machine over, and came back with that watch.
"That is all I can tell you. Do not try to keep me any longer, or to
ask me any questions. I shall go back to Fargo by train, for I do not
like the way my uncle is doing. I--I hope that you will find your
friend and that--that no harm has happened to him."
The girl had spoken rapidly, and with nervous impatience, continually
watching the door. When she finished, she turned away and passed
hastily up the stairs leading to the second floor.
The amazing news she had given held McGlory, Cameron, and Ping
spellbound. While they stood, gazing at each other, Murgatroyd entered
the office.
"As soon as you have come to a decision," said he, "let me know."
Then he, too, passed up the stairs.
Cameron was the first of the three to recover his wits.
"Quick!" said he, catching McGlory's arm, "there's no time to be lost.
Run over to the railroad station and send a telegram to Mrs. Traquair,
McGlory. Tell her to pay no attention to any letter she may receive
from Murgatroyd. While you're doing that, I'll get out the car and
we'll make a run out on the road to Jessup's."
McGlory, inspired with the necessity for rapid work, hustled for the
telegraph office. Cameron hurried to the shed after the car. While he
was getting the machine ready, Ping mysteriously disappeared.
As the lieutenant pulled out of the shed, he looked for the cowboy and
the Chinaman. Neither was in sight.
Two minutes later McGlory appeared, and crossed from the railroad
station to the car on a run.
"Where's Ping?" demanded Cameron.
"That's too many for me," said McGlory. "I thought he was with you."
"And I had the idea that he had gone with you. Well, we can't wait for
him," and Cameron drove the car around to the front of the hotel.
A man was crossing the street. Cameron hailed him.
"Which is the road to Jessup's?" he asked.
The man pointed it out. Barely had he given the directions when
Murgatroyd ran out of the hotel and vanished around the corner of the
building.
"He's after his car!" murmured McGlory.
Some one jumped to the footboard and scrambled into the tonneau just as
Cameron threw in the switch. It was Ping. He was breathing hard, and
his yellow face was as near white as it could possibly be.
"What's the matter with you, Ping?" asked McGlory.
The Chinaman held up one hand. As the flowing sleeve fell away his
yellow fingers could be seen gripping a switch plug.
"Murg forgettee plug," chattered Ping. "My findee car, takee plug----"
Cameron let off a shout as he coaxed the automobile into a faster pace.
"That knocks out Murgatroyd, so far as chasing us is concerned," said
he. "Shake hands with the chink for me, McGlory. I'm too all-fired
busy."