A MYSTERIOUS DISAPPEARANCE.
"You are sure of it, aren't you?"
Herc asked the question as they gained the street.
"Certain," replied Ned; "no mistaking that underhung jaw and heavy brow
of friend Silas."
"Or that lady-like simper of the rascal Schultz. Ned, I feel that we
are on the verge of big discoveries."
"Why?"
"I don't know; it's in the air--like electricity."
"Well, they'll have to hurry along--those big discoveries of yours, I
mean," laughed Ned; "for it's ten-thirty now, and the shore boats will
be at the float at eleven-thirty."
"That's an hour," responded Herc, "and many a big battle has been
fought and won in that time. By Hookey!" he broke off suddenly, "did
you see those two fellows who just passed?"
"I saw two rather fleshy men in evening clothes hurry by in the
direction of the hotel. Why?"
"Did you recognize them?"
Ned laid a hand on Herc's shoulder and wheeled the red-headed
Dreadnought Boy about.
"Say, Herc, what's the matter with you to-night? You've got
rememberitis, or some similar disease. Who are you going to recognize
next?"
"I don't know; likely to run into Gran'pa Zack, if this keeps up. Those
two fellows were the same pair of worthies we yanked out of the seats
that day in the subway."
Herc chuckled at the recollection.
"No?"
"Yes."
"The Pulsifer Gun people. The concern that sells American-made guns to
foreign powers?"
"That's right."
"Are you sure?"
"As certain as I am that the two figures in that convict picture were
Silas and Schultz."
"If that is the case, we might just trail after them a little way.
There's little danger of their recognizing us. I don't imagine that
they are here, while the fleet is on battle practice and trying out
new guns, for any good or patriotic purpose."
"That's just my idea. Anyhow, they are going toward the hotel where all
that glare of light is. As we want to have a peep at the festivities
anyway, we might as well kill two birds with one stone."
"I agree with you. Come on."
The two Dreadnought Boys wheeled about and began to follow the course
taken by the red-faced, be-diamonded men they had last encountered so
strangely in New York.
As they had guessed, the pair they were shadowing went directly to the
hotel--the front of which bore a brilliantly illuminated set-piece,
formed of hundreds of red, white and blue incandescents, the whole
forming a representation of the Stars and Stripes. Instinctively the
two lads saluted the colors, and then passed up the broad wooden steps
on to a capacious veranda.
Through windows opening on to it they could see the long dinner-tables,
at which, the meal concluded, officers and civilians now sat listening
to the more or less complimentary speeches of the citizens and
dignitaries of Guantanamo.
"Looking at the big wigs, eh?"
The boys turned.
Behind them stood old Tom. The boys greeted him warmly.
"Coming down the street? I want to buy a few gim-cracks for the kids at
home."
The lads shook their heads. For reasons of their own they were anxious
to remain about the hotel till they caught a further glimpse of the two
red-faced men.
"I'll meet you here in half an hour then," suggested old Tom.
And so it was agreed. The old man-o'-warsman hurried off and left the
boys standing behind one of the big palms, with which the veranda was
decorated, discussing in low tones their next move.
But, as things turned out, it was not left to the boys to determine
their actions of the immediate future.
A door leading from the banquet-room suddenly opened, and through their
leafy screen the boys spied the two red-faced men emerge. They were
accompanied by a tall, distinguished-looking man, who wore a Van Dyke
beard and was garbed in evening dress. He was smoking a cigar.
As the voices of the three fell on their ears, the boys gave a start.
One of the red-faced men had addressed their ill-matched companion
as "Varian." The boys at the same instant recognized the inventor of
Chaosite and the untried gun for handling the powerful explosive, from
the picture they had seen of him in the papers.
Eagerly Ned and Herc listened to catch the drift of their talk, but
the three spoke in low tones. Suddenly in a heightened voice, however,
one of the red-faced men suggested that they should seek the garden to
smoke their cigars.
"You will really enjoy seeing the grounds here, Varian, if you have not
done so," said Dave Pulsifer persuasively; "and under this moon they
are one of the most beautiful sights the tropics have to offer."
"I should like it above all things, gentlemen," responded Varian
cordially, "and in the coolness we can talk over the proposition you
say you have to make."
The three, chatting easily, passed down the steps and strolled down
a smooth path which led round the corner of the hotel and into the
tropical gardens, which reached for a considerable area behind it.
"_The proposition you have to make._"
The words rang in Ned's ears.
Could it be possible that Henry Varian, whose invention was already
pledged to the United States navy, was dealing with one of the foreign
powers represented by the Pulsifers for its purchase?
There was only one way to learn if the navy was dealing with a traitor.
Ned decided in a flash to adopt it.
"Come on, Herc," he whispered. "We've got to follow them and hear what
they are talking about."
"But we shall be eavesdropping," objected Herc.
"Yes; _eavesdropping for the flag_," snapped Ned in a low, tense tone,
as, with a swift glance about him, he dropped over the rail of the
veranda and on to the soft ground beneath. He landed as noiselessly as
a cat.
Herc followed him, but was not so successful. In fact, as he struck the
ground with a crash, he ejaculated:
"Ouch!" in a loud, startled tone.
Luckily a burst of applause from within, at some sentiment expressed
by one of the speech-makers, drowned his exclamation. Ned, in an angry
whisper, demanded to know what was the matter with his red-headed
companion.
"Gee whitakers! I dropped into a porcupine, I think," moaned Herc. "I
feel like a human pin-cushion."
Ned looked at his chum, and then, serious as was the situation, he
could not help breaking into a low laugh.
"Herc, you poor fellow, I'm sorry for you," he exclaimed. "You've
tumbled into a cactus-bush."
"Oh, is that it?" rejoined Herc. "Well, whatever it is, I can't walk
till I get some of these stickers out of me. You go ahead, Ned, and
I'll meet you here in half an hour when Tom gets back."
And so it was agreed that Herc was to await Ned's return and employ the
time in extracting what he called "stickers."
"Good-bye, Herc," said Ned, under his breath, as he slipped off
cautiously, avoiding moonlit spots and dodging along in the black
shadows.
"So long," muttered Herc, as he painfully made toward the hotel steps.
"If ever I get these things out of me," he added to himself, "I'll
never put a tack in any one's chair again. I know just how it feels
now. I'm full of that tack-tus, or whatever you call it."
With the aid of a grinning colored bell-boy, Herc soon got rid of
most of his "bristles." By the time old Tom arrived at the appointed
meeting-place he was comparatively comfortable once more.
"Where's Ned?" demanded the old salt, gazing about him, as Herc greeted
him.
"Oh, he'll be here in a minute. He just went off to talk to some old
friends--or rather acquaintances," responded Herc lightly. "He'll be
here immediately or sooner."
But Ned was not "here" in a few minutes or in many minutes.
Impatiently the two--the Dreadnought Boy and the old
blue-jacket--awaited his coming, but the lad did not appear.
Eleven o'clock struck and no Ned.
The quarter past the hour chimed on the hotel clock and jackies on
their way to the boat-landing began to hurry by.
But of Ned there had been no sign.