THE DIAMOND MERCHANT.
It was midnight before the motor boys were deposited on the walk in
front of their hotel in Catskill. A team and two-seated wagon had
brought them, and they had not left the vicinity of the road at the
foot of the mountain until they had driven around for an hour, made
inquiries concerning two men on motor cycles, given a description of
the sailor, and passed word that the men were thieves and were to be
arrested and held if found.
Matt, according to agreement, paid the driver who had brought them to
Catskill five dollars for his services.
Before going to bed Matt gathered a little information concerning the
village of Purling. He learned that it was six miles from Cairo, and
that Cairo was on the railroad and could be reached by a morning train.
But the train would not serve. By proceeding to the village in that
way, the boys would not be able to arrive before noon, and, according
to the note in the sailor's cap, they were expected at the general
store by ten o'clock.
"We'll hire an automobile," said Matt, "and a driver that knows the
mountains. I guess we'd better speak for the machine to-night."
At the same place where they had secured the motor cycles they
arranged for a touring car and a driver who knew the country, but the
arrangement was not effected until they had deposited three hundred
dollars as a guaranty that the motor cycles would be returned, or the
owner indemnified for their loss.
"Three hundred plunks gone where the woodbine twineth," mourned
McGlory, as they were going to bed, "and all because we're helping to
turn a trick for Tsan Ti. Good business--I don't think."
"This Grattan," said Matt, "is probably lying low somewhere near
Purling. If he isn't, he wouldn't be making it so hard for his pal
to get at him. The sailor will be there, and he won't get to see
Grattan without the letter. We'll catch the fellow, and we may catch
Grattan--say nothing of the possibility of recovering the Eye of
Buddha."
"We'll draw a blank in the matter of that idol's eye, pard, you take it
from me. But there's a chance of our putting a fancy kibosh on Bunce
and getting back the go-devil machines. Still, there's also a splendid
chance for a fall down. Listen. The _Hottentot_ man examines the note
in his cap. He sees it's not the few lines he got from Grattan, but a
lot of 'con' talk from the mandarin. That leaves One Eye in the air,
but gives him a line on _us_. What'll happen? I wish I knew."
"The sailor may not look at the letter in his hat until he gets to
Purling, so----"
"Don't think it, pard. That would be too much luck to come at a time
when we're hocussed crisscross and both ways."
By seven the boys were up, had overhauled their grips, and got into
fresh clothes, and were sitting down to breakfast at the first call. By
seven-thirty the touring car was at the door for them, freshly groomed
and shining like a new dollar.
It was a sixty horse-power machine, and a family carryall for the
personal use of the proprietor of the garage. Not having been used for
hackabout purposes, the car was more dependable than one that had been
hammered about over the rough roads by anybody who could tell the spark
plug from the magneto and had five dollars an hour to pay for a junket.
The proprietor, who was a good fellow at heart and wanted to do
everything possible to help the boys recover the stolen motor cycles,
made this concession. So, with Matt in the driver's seat, the native
who knew the way beside him, and McGlory with the tonneau all to
himself, the touring car flashed out of Catskill Landing and took to
the hills.
Of the drive Motor Matt made that morning, the driver on his left
entertained the most enthusiastic recollections. Never had he seen a
car handled so cleverly; and when the car balked--which the best of
cars will do now and then--the way the king of the motor boys located
the difficulty and adjusted it was something to think about.
At nine-thirty the touring car landed its passengers in front of the
general store. Two men were sunning themselves on the bench in front,
and a sleeping dog looked up lazily, snapped at a fly, and then went to
sleep again.
"Where's Mr. Pryne?" asked Matt, stepping up to the two men on the
bench.
"I'm Pryne," answered one of the two, measuring Matt with an expectant
light in his faded blue eyes.
"Look at this," said Matt, and presented the letter from Grattan.
The man, who was roughly dressed and certainly had nothing to do with
the store, studied the writing carefully.
"This is all right," he remarked; "_all_ right, but"--and his eyes
traveled doubtfully over McGlory--"only one was expected."
"Don't worry about that, Mr. Pryne," answered Matt genially; "this
chap," and he lowered his voice to a whisper, "is a pal."
"There's another one to go," murmured Pryne.
Matt was startled; then, thinking the other one was the sailor, he
braced himself for short, sharp work. "Where is the other one, Pryne?"
"Here," and Pryne indicated the other man who had been sitting with him
on the bench.
Matt gave more careful attention to this other individual. He was a
Hebrew--one glance was sufficient to decide that. Also, he was ornately
clad, wearing many large diamonds and making a fulsome display of
heavy gold watch chain. The Jew pushed forward with a wink and an
ingratiating smile.
"Goldstein is der name," said he, thrusting out a hand. "I'm der
man from New York, yes, der"--and he whispered the rest in Matt's
ear--"diamond merchant. You know for vat I come."
A thrill ran through the king of the motor boys. No, he did not know
"for vat" the diamond merchant had come, but he guessed that it was to
purchase the Eye of Buddha. The mandarin's story was being borne out by
every fresh development.
"We're a little ahead of time," observed Pryne, "but I guess it won't
make no difference."
"Not the least," replied Matt. "I don't believe it will be necessary
for me to take my pal along, so I'll just give him a few instructions
about the motor car and we'll be going. This way, Joe," and Matt took
McGlory to one side for a brief talk.
"What you going to do when you reach where you're going, with all that
gang against you?" whispered the cowboy. "The outfit would be more than
a handful for the two of us--and here you're cutting me out of the game
right at the start."
"No," whispered Matt, "I'm not cutting you out of the game. You've got
the most important part to play. Listen. Find a constable, if you can
do it in a hurry, and pick up two or three more men and follow us. Do
it carefully, so that Pryne won't suspect. Also tell the driver of
the car to look out for the one-eyed sailor. If he comes here at ten
o'clock, tell the driver to have him captured and held--and the other
man, too, if they both come. That's your programme, Joe, and everything
depends on you."
The cowboy's eyes began to glitter and snap as the gist and vital
importance of his pard's instructions drifted through his mind.
"You know you can bank on me, Matt," he answered. "But don't move too
fast--make a delay. I've got a lot to do, and you're liable to get so
far ahead I'll lose track of you."
"I'll delay matters as much as I can."
Matt returned to Goldstein.
"Where's Pryne?" he queried, observing, with a qualm, that the guide
had vanished.
"He is gone for der team," replied Goldstein. "I am sorry," he added,
jumping to another subject, "that der price of precious stones is come
down. Fancy prices don't rule no more for such luxuries."
"You'll have to pay something for this treasure from the temple of
Honam if you get it," answered Matt.
"I will do all that is in reason, yes, but der chances vas great, and I
take them."
"Haven't Grattan and I taken chances, Goldstein?" returned Matt sharply.
"You have, yes. Well, we shall see, we shall see."
Goldstein was carrying a small satchel which he kept in hand
continually, whether he was sitting down or standing up.
"I come prepared to talk business," he said, with a sly grin, directing
his glance at the satchel. "My orders was to wait here until Bunce iss
arrived with der letter. I had a letter myself," he laughed.
At this juncture Pryne drove around the corner of the building and drew
up at the platform in front of the store.
"Jump in, gents," said he. "It won't be long till I snake you out to my
place."
Matt and Goldstein climbed into the back seat. Under the seat was a bag
of ground feed. As Pryne was driving out of town, Matt drew his knife
from his pocket, opened the blade, and dropped a hand over the back of
the seat.
A jab or two with the knife made a hole in the bag. The wagon was
an old one, and the boards in the bottom of the box had wide cracks
between them. Looking back casually, Matt saw that a fine trail of
"middlings" was leaking into the road.
"That will do the trick," he thought exultantly. "My cowboy pard can be
depended on to attend to the rest."