THE NEW SIGN
“Quit wobbling!” hissed Fudge.
“All right, but hurry up,” returned Perry in a hoarse whisper. “See
anything?”
“N-no, nothing much. There’s a table――what’s that?”
Fudge stopped abruptly and listened. Footfalls sounded in the hall
below and, releasing his clutch on the ledge of the transom, Fudge
wriggled from Perry’s supporting arms and descended to the floor.
“Someone’s coming!” he whispered. “Beat it!”
They “beat it” into the empty room across the corridor just as the
intruder’s head came into sight above the landing. Fudge, watching
through the crack of the partly-open door, beheld a man in overalls
carrying a square of black tin. He passed on to the door they had
just retreated from, set down his box, pushed a battered derby hat to
the back of his head and regarded the portal thoughtfully. Finally
he produced an awl, a screwdriver and some screws from different
pockets and proceeded to attach the square of tin to the middle panel.
The conspirators watched with vast curiosity. There was printing
on the tin, but not until the man had completed his task and gone
were they able to read it. Then they stole out and regarded the sign
interestedly. This is what they saw:
MYRON ADDICKS,
CIVIL ENGINEER
They viewed each other questioningly and doubtfully.
“Civil Engineer,” mused Fudge. “That’s a funny game. Of course, that
isn’t his real name.”
“Let’s get out of here,” said Perry uneasily. “He might come back.”
They went down the stairs and emerged on the sidewalk after Fudge had
peered cautiously from the doorway. “I suppose,” muttered Fudge, “we
oughtn’t to be seen together. He may be watching from across the street
somewhere.” He viewed the windows of the opposite stores and houses
suspiciously but without result. In another minute they were seated on
Perry’s front steps.
“What did you see through the transom?” asked Perry.
“Nothing much. There’s a cot bed in one corner with a screen around it,
and a table with a lot of books and things on it, and a funny table
with a sloping top, and a little table near the window, and two or
three chairs――――” Fudge paused, searching his memory. “That’s all, I
guess. There’s a closet in the corner across from the bed, though. And,
oh, yes, there was a trunk near the door. I could just see the edge of
it. I’ll bet if we could get a look in that trunk we’d find evidence
enough, all right!”
“But――but if he’s really a civil engineer,” objected Perry, “maybe
we’re all wrong about him.”
Fudge jeered. “What would a civil engineer be doing playing a piano in
a movie theater? And why would he wear a false mustache? Or dress up
like a cowboy? He’s no more of a civil engineer than I am!”
“Myron’s an unusual name,” mused Perry.
“You wouldn’t expect him to call himself John Smith, would you? Folks
would suspect right away that it was a――an assumed name. He’s foxy,
that chap. I’ll just bet you anything that he’s a regular top-notcher!
And I’ll bet there’s a whaling big reward out for him, too!”
“Well, I don’t see that we’ve found out very much to-day,” said Perry.
“We’ve been after him ever since half-past eight, and all we know is
that he calls himself ‘Myron Addicks, Civil Engineer’ and has a trunk
and a bed and three tables in his room.”
“That’s a whole lot,” replied Fudge emphatically. “That sign proves
that he’s a faker, doesn’t it?”
“Well, it doesn’t exactly _prove_ it,” returned the other.
“Of course it does! You don’t suppose anyone really ever had such a
name as ‘Myron Addicks,’ do you? And I guess you never saw a civil
engineer playing a piano in a theater, did you? And what about the
disguise?”
There was no getting around the disguise, and Perry hedged. “Well,
anyway, we’ve got to find out more than we have yet, Fudge.”
“Oh, we’ll find things out all right. And I guess we’ve got plenty of
time. That sign shows that he means to hang around here awhile, you
see. If he was going to crack a safe within a few days he wouldn’t go
to all that trouble. I guess he’s about as slick as they make them.
Say, what time is it? I’ve got to get home!”
“About half-past twelve. Do we have to do any more shadowing this
afternoon?”
Fudge shook his head. “No, he’ll be in the theater from two to
half-past four. Anyway, I’ve got to think over the new evidence before
we go on. We――we’ve got to proceed very carefully. If he should suspect
anything――well, it might go hard with us.”
“I wish,” said Perry dubiously, “we could find out if there really is
a reward out for him. Only, if there was, I don’t suppose we could get
it.”
“Why couldn’t we?” demanded Fudge warmly. “All we’d have to do would
be to go to the police and say: ‘Come across with the reward and we’ll
lead you to your man!’ That’s all we’d have to do. Of course I could go
to the police station and ask what rewards are out, but, you see, that
might make them suspicious. All they’d have to do would be to shadow us
and find out about him and――bing!――good-night, reward!” Fudge shook his
head. “We won’t give them any chance to do us out of it. Well, so long.
Going out to the field this afternoon?”
“Are you?”
Fudge nodded. “Guess so. Come on and watch practice. Maybe they’ll
have a game to-day. Stop for me about two, will you?”
Perry agreed and Fudge took himself off, for once neglecting to proceed
along the street with his usual caution. If an enemy had been lurking
behind one of the maple trees, Fudge would have stood a poor chance of
escape! Perry dragged his tired feet into the house and up the stairs,
reflecting that this game of shadowing was far more wearying than the
long, slow runs that had fallen to his lot the last three days. He was
very thankful that work for the track candidates was to be omitted this
afternoon.
However, he felt better after dinner and sitting in the sun on the
stand with Fudge and watching baseball practice was not a very wearing
occupation. Dick Lovering put the fellows through a good hour of
batting and fielding and then picked two teams from the more promising
material and let them play five innings. Tom Haley was in the box for
the First Team and Tom Nostrand pitched for the Second. The First was
made up about as everyone expected it would be, with Captain Jones at
shortstop, Lanny catching, Gordon Merrick on first, Harry Bryan on
second, Will Scott on third, George Cotner in left field, Pete Farrar
in center and Joe Browne in right. Bert Cable umpired. A hundred
or more fellows had come out to the field to look on, attracted by
the rumor of a line-up, and they were rewarded by a very scrappy,
hard-fought contest. There were many errors, but, as they were fairly
apportioned to each team, they added to rather than detracted from the
interest.
The Scrubs tied the score up in the third when Lanny, seeking to kill
off a runner at second, threw the ball two yards to the left of base
and two tallies came in. At four runs each the game went into the last
of the fourth inning. Then an error by the Second Team’s first-baseman,
followed by a wild throw to third by catcher, brought Gordon Merrick
in and placed the First Team in the lead. And there it stayed, for,
although the Second started a rally in their half of the fifth and
managed to get men on first and second bases with but one out, Tom
Haley settled down and fanned the next batsman and brought the game to
an end by causing his rival in the points, Tom Nostrand, to pop up an
easy fly to Warner Jones.
Before Fudge and Perry were out of sight of the field Dick’s runabout
sped past with Gordon Merrick beside the driver and Curtis Wayland
perched on the floor with his knees doubled up under his chin. The
occupants of the car waved and Way shouted something that Perry didn’t
catch.
“What did he say?” Perry asked as the car sped around the corner.
“I don’t know,” muttered Fudge. “He’s a fresh kid, anyway.”
Fudge, however, was not quite truthful, for Way’s remark had reached
him very clearly.
“I thought,” said Perry innocently, “he said something about the
springs.”
Fudge viewed him suspiciously, but, discovering his countenance
apparently free of guile, only grunted.
In the runabout the three boys were discussing the afternoon’s
performance. “It didn’t go badly for a first game,” hazarded Way. “But
wasn’t that a weird peg of Lanny’s?”
“There were several weird things about that game,” said Gordon. “My
hitting was one of them. We’ll have to do better next Saturday if we’re
going to beat Norrisville.”
“Who said we were going to?” asked Dick mildly.
Gordon laughed. “Well, then, give them a fight,” he corrected.
“Oh, we’ll do that, I guess,” Dick replied. “Another week of practice
will make a difference. We’ll get rid of some of the crowd about
Wednesday and then we’ll have room to turn around out there. Warner
thinks we ought to keep two full nines for the First, but I don’t see
the use of it if we have the Second to play with. What do you think?”
“No use at all,” said Way. “Just a lot of soreheads sitting around on
the bench and kicking because they can’t play every minute. Besides,
there aren’t enough good ball players in the lot to make three teams.”
“No, I don’t think there are. That’s what I told Warner. He wanted to
pick out eighteen or twenty and then make up the Second from what was
left.”
“A peach of a Second it would be,” jeered Gordon.
“I guess we’ll stick to last year’s idea,” continued the coach, “and
keep about sixteen fellows, including pitchers. I wish, by the way, we
had another good twirler. We’ll have to find one somewhere.”
“Joe Browne can pitch a little, Dick,” Way suggested. “You might see
what you can do with him. He hasn’t got much, I guess, but a pretty
fair straight ball and a sort of out-curve, but he might learn.”
“All right, we’ll see what we can do with him. A player who can work in
the field and the box too is a pretty handy chap to have around. If he
can do well enough to start some of the early games we won’t have to
keep more than fifteen players. Here you are, Way. Everything all right
for to-night?”
“I guess so. Lanny’s going to leave the big gate open so we can get the
thing in. I hope he doesn’t forget it. I’ll call him up at supper time
and find out. Sure you don’t want to come along, Dick?”
“Quite sure. I’d only be in the way. And you’ll have plenty without me.
Good luck to you. Don’t get caught!”
“If we do we’ll get you to bail us out,” laughed Way, as he swung the
gate to behind him. “Nine o’clock sharp, Gordon!”
Gordon nodded and the car went on again. “I’m rather afraid you’ll get
nabbed,” remarked Dick. “But I don’t suppose anyone would be nasty
about it. If I were you fellows I’d cut and run, Gordie, if anything
happened.”
“I suppose we will,” Gordon replied. “If we do I hope Lanny will turn
off the engine before he jumps!”
“Well, drop around in the morning and let me hear about it,” said the
other as Gordon jumped out at his gate. “If I don’t see an announcement
of your arrest in the paper I’ll take it that you got through all
right.”
“You won’t see any announcement of my arrest,” laughed Gordon. “I can
run faster than any cop on the force, Dick!”
“Well, see that you do! So long!”