ON THE TRAIL
Such a crowd had quickly gathered about Tom's airship that it was
impossible to start it. Men and boys, and even some girls and
women, coming from no one knew where, stood about the machine,
making wondering remarks about it.
"Stand back, if you please!" cried Tom, good-naturedly. "We've
got to get after the fellow in the auto."
"You'll have hard work catching him, friend, in that rig,"
remarked a man. "He was fracturing all the speed laws ever passed.
I reckon he was going nigh onto sixty miles an hour."
"We can make a hundred," spoke Ned, quietly.
"A hundred! Get out!" cried the man. "Nothing can go as fast as
that!"
"We'll show you, if we once get started," said Tom. "I guess we'll
have to get one of these fellows to twirl the propellers for us,
Ned," he added. "I didn't think, or I'd have brought the self-starting
machine," for this one of Tom's had to be started by someone
turning over the propellers, once or twice, to enable the motor
to begin to speed. On some of his aircraft the young inventor had
attached a starter, something like the ones on the newest autos.
"What are you going to do?" asked Ned, as Tom looked to the
priming of the cylinders.
"I'm going to get on the trail of Peters," he said. "He's at the
bottom of the whole business; and it's a surprise to me. I'm going
to trail him right down to the ground now, and make him give up
Mr. Damon and his fortune."
"But you don't know where he is, Tom."
"I'll find out. He isn't such an easy man to miss--he's too
conspicuous. Besides, if he's just left in his auto we may catch
him before he gets to Shopton."
"Do you think he's going there?"
"I think so. And I think, Ned, that he's become suspicious and
will light out. Something must have happened, while he was
telephoning, and he got frightened, as big a bluff as he is. But
we'll get him. Come on! Will you turn over the propellers, please?
I'll show you how to do it," Tom went on to a big, strong man
standing close to the blades.
"Sure I'll do it," was the answer. "I was a helper once at an
airship meet, and I know how."
"Get back out of the way in time," the young inventor warned him.
"They start very suddenly, sometimes."
"All right, friend, I'll watch out," was the reply, and with Tom
and Ned in their seats, the former at the steering wheel, the
craft of the air was soon throbbing and trembling under the first
turn, for the cylinders were still warm from the run from Mrs.
Damon's house.
The telephone was in an outlying section of Waterford--a section
devoted in the main to shops and factories, and the homes of those
employed in various lines of manufacture. Peters had chosen his
place well, for there were many roads leading to and from this
section, and he could easily make his escape.
"But we'll get after him," thought Tom, grimly, as he let the
airship run down the straight road a short distance on the bicycle
wheels, to give it momentum enough so that it would rise.
Then, with the tilting of the elevation rudder, the craft rose
gracefully, amid admiring cheers from the crowd. Tom did not go up
very far, as he wanted to hover near the ground, to pick out the
speeding auto containing Peters.
But this time luck was not with Tom. He and Ned did sight a number
of cars speeding along the highway toward Shopton, but when they
got near enough to observe the occupants they were disappointed
not to behold the man they sought. Tom circled about for some
time, but it was of no use, and then he headed his craft back
toward Waterford.
"Where are you going?" asked Ned, yelling the words into the ear
of his chum.
"Back to Mrs. Damon's," answered Tom, in equally loud tones.
It was impossible to talk above the roaring and throbbing of the
motor, so the two lads kept silent until the airship had landed
near Mrs. Damon's home.
"I want to see if Mrs. Damon is all right," Tom explained, as he
jumped from the still moving machine. "Then we'll go to Shopton,
and cause Peters's arrest. I can make a charge against him now,
and the evidence of the photo telephone will convict him, I'm
sure. And I also want to see if Mrs. Damon has had any other
word."
She had not, however, though she was more nervous and worried than
ever.
"Oh, Tom, what shall I do?" she exclaimed. "I am so frightened!
What do you suppose they will do to Mr. Damon?"
"Nothing at all!" Tom assured her. "He will be all right. I think
matters are coming to a crisis now, and very likely he'll be with
you inside of twenty-four hours. The game is up, and I guess
Peters knows it. I'm going to have him arrested at once."
"Shall I send those land papers, Tom?"
"Indeed you must not! But I'll talk to you about that later. Just
put away that phonograph record of Peters's talk. I'll take along
the photo telephone negative, and have some prints made--or, I
guess, since we're going in the airship, that I'd better leave it
here for the present. We'll use it as evidence against Peters.
Come on, Ned."
"Where to now?"
"Peters's house. He's probably there, arranging to cover up his
tracks when he lights out."
But Shallock Peters did better than merely cover up his tracks. He
covered himself up, so to speak. For when Ned and Tom, after a
quick flight in the airship, reached his house, the promoter had
left, and the servants, who were quite excited, did not know where
he had gone.
"He just packed up a few clothes and ran out," said one of the
maids. "He didn't say anything about our wages, either, and he
owes me over a month."
"Me too," said another.
"Well, if he doesn't pay me some of my back wages soon, I'll sue
him!" declared the gardener. "He owes me more than three months,
but he kept putting me off."
And, so it seemed, Peters had done with several of his employes.
When the promoter came to Shopton he had taken an elaborate house
and engaged a staff of servants. Peters was not married, but he
gave a number of entertainments to which the wealthy men of
Shopton and their wives came. Later it was found that the bills
for these had never been paid. In short, Peters was a "bluff" in
more ways than one.
Tom told enough of his story to the servants to get them on his
side. Indeed, now that their employer had gone, and under such
queer circumstances, they had no sympathy for him. They were only
concerned about their own money, and Tom was given admittance to
the house.
Tom made a casual search, hoping to find some clue to the
whereabouts of Mr. Damon, or to get some papers that would save
his fortune. But the search was unsuccessful.
There was a safe in the room Peters used for an office, but when
Tom got there the strong box was open, and only some worthless
documents remained.
"He smelled a rat, all right," said Tom, grimly. "After he
telephoned to Mrs. Damon something happened that gave him an
intimation that someone was after him. So he got away as soon as
he could."
"But what are you going to do about it, Tom?"
"Get right after him. He can't have gotten very far. I want him
and I want Boylan. We're getting close to the end of the trail,
Ned."
"Yes, but we haven't found Mr. Damon yet, and his fortune seems to
have vanished."
"Well, we'll do the best we can," said Tom, grimly. "Now I'm going
to get a warrant for the arrest of Peters, and one for Boylan, and
I'm going to get myself appointed a special officer with power to
serve them. We've got our work cut out for us, Ned."
"Well, I'm with you to the end."
"I know you are!" cried Tom.