DETECTIVE BOB RACK HAS SOMETHING TO SAY
To the police officials of Syracuse, Phil and Dave first directed their
steps in that city. The result was as usual. The department had a report
that such-and-such a car was stolen. The officers would be pretty likely
to discover it if the machine should appear in the town.
"But you better see the Automobile club. They are a big help in
everything where autos are concerned," advised the police captain.
At a centrally located garage the boys stopped to repeat the same
questions they had asked so many times before. The man in charge had
heard the story of a car mysteriously disappearing from the South Fork
road beyond Port Greeley, but that was all. "You can't do better than
see the Automobile club," he added, however. "They are the ones to get
you the right dope if there's any way to get it."
Although it was still too early to expect to find a secretary or other
officer present, the boys decided to visit the club headquarters at
once. A pleasant-faced man was reading a motor journal as they entered.
To him they stated the purpose of their call.
"By George, that's interesting!" said the stranger thoughtfully. "Wait a
minute!" Reaching for a desk phone, the pleasant-faced man was soon in
touch with the person he desired. Briefly he told of the two young
callers and their errand. "All right, that's the ticket!" he said, after
some conversation over the wire, and hung up the receiver.
Asking the boys to accompany him, the agreeable stranger piloted them to
an office in a large brick building where he introduced them to a
gentleman who seemed hardly more than a boy in appearance, though his
age was probably twenty-five. His name was Freeland Cape. ("A regular
Cape of Good Hope to us," Phil said afterward.)
"Sit down," said Mr. Cape to the young strangers, as their escort left
them. Thanking him, Phil and Dave accepted the proffered chairs. Without
ado Mr. Cape was informed of the loss of the Six and the search thus far
so unsuccessful.
"Queerest affair I ever heard of," was the young man's comment. "But
tell me more of this Torpedo car. There was a Torpedo stolen in
Harkville--(Phil and Dave exchanged glances)--an extraordinary case. And
of course it is evident that the parties who, for some reason, abandoned
the machine you found, grabbed your car directly afterward."
"It would seem so, but it is hardly the case," put in Phil quickly. "We
have had that notion pretty well pounded out of us by different people,
especially by Mr. Fobes, the policeman at Griffin. 'Two separate
transactions,' were his words and he made it pretty plain. And of course
we were, and are, more anxious to locate our own car than anything else.
So all along, 'two separate transactions' we have had right in mind."
Young Mr. Cape scratched the crown of his head with one forefinger while
he thought for a few seconds. "There never is a theory so exclusively
inclusive but some other theory can be suggested," said he. "I may be
wrong. Without knowing anything about the Torpedo you found, I'd say the
two separate facts constitute a plausible supposition. But I _do_ know
and _you_ know now, that the machine you found was probably the one
stolen from Harkville. Who stole it? We do not know, but it is pretty
plain that no one other than the original thieves had the car on that
South Fork road, wherever they may have been with it since first it
disappeared. Now that lands in the very vicinity of your car, at the
time of your loss, the fellows who stole one automobile. And, having
stolen one, no doubt they would just as lief take another and better
one. The man who was seen with your basket may have been only a tramp.
If your suitcases were left behind, the basket was thrown out, as well,
at the same place or near by."
"Any way you put it, though," suggested MacLester, his brow puckered in
thought, "we are left right in the middle of it all, again. Go one way,
and we might find who owned the Torpedo. Go the other way--and we stand
a better chance, I should think, of finding our own Six and the thieves.
Whether they stole both cars, or simply ours, isn't a question in the
case at all just yet."
"Yes," assented Mr. Cape, "but you must go back along the road, or
wherever you may have to go, for the things you need to aid your search.
You can't unsnarl a fish line, or anything else, without you have one
free end with which to make a start."
Phil became nervous and uneasy as so much time was being consumed in
discussion, interesting to him though the talk was. "Tell us just what
_you'd_ do, Mr. Cape," he said earnestly.
"Advice is dangerous in a case like this. You may do as I would do and
lose by it. Still, I'll venture a suggestion. You have gotten together,
bit by bit, a lot of valuable facts. Right here in this building is a
detective. He works for big people. Why not talk with him? If that
Torpedo is the stolen Harkville machine you will win the help of one of
the largest insurance companies in the job of capturing the thieves and
at the same time, it is quite certain, recovering your own car."
"That's the plan!" exclaimed Phil eagerly.
"The very thing!" said Dave.
In a moment Mr. Cape had the telephone in his hand. Within five minutes
the boys were in the office of Detective Robert Rack, or plain "Bob"
Rack, as his name so often appears in the newspapers.
Mr. Rack was a ready listener to the whole story in detail as the boys
told it. Quietly he referred to a card index a stenographer brought him.
"I don't think this work need cost you young men a copper," said he. His
voice was soft as a June zephyr. His neat business suit, calm, gray eyes
and hair just tinged with gray, made him appear a great deal more like a
successful salesman of some kind than a detective--than such ideas of
detectives as the boys had hitherto had, at least.
"Not a copper cent," said Bob Rack, looking up from the card index. "And
how would you like to be reimbursed for your trouble and expense?"
These were quite the most pleasant words that had fallen upon David's or
Philip's ears for some time. In substance they said as much.
"I do not doubt the Torpedo you picked up is one we have long wanted to
get trace of. The insurance people offer four hundred dollars for the
recovery of the car. For the arrest and conviction of the thieves they
will give five hundred dollars more. So then, if your party--four of you
in all, are there?--wish simply to turn over the Torpedo you may do so.
I'll tell you who is to be notified. There's one hundred dollars each
for you. Or if you'd like my office to help you, both with the Torpedo
and your own car, I'll make this proposition: to go myself, or send a
good man with you on this case, and whatever the expenses and whatever
the receipts may amount to they all shall be shared equally."
"Bob, you're a brick!" cried Mr. Cape, who had been an interested
listener. Then he said good-bye, assuring the boys that their problem
was in the best of hands. Heartily they thanked him.
"But there's some doubt about that car in Griffin being the one stolen
at Harkville, isn't there?" reasoned Phil Way as the facts in hand were
further discussed with Mr. Rack. "Why did that man Kull never answer our
telegram?"
"Ah, that is a thing to remember! I asked myself the same question the
moment you said the telegram was not answered, a little time ago,"
smiled the detective. "It would be a dreadful thing, I am sure, for a
man to show no interest in the recovery of his stolen car, simply
because he had received the price of it in insurance." The boys could
see Mr. Rack meant something more than he said. They thought they knew
the thought he entertained. But he went on at once, more seriously:
"There is a great deal more to this matter than simply getting your
machine for you or restoring the Torpedo, or I am badly mistaken."
Phil's eyes glistened. Davy sat very still and I am afraid his mouth was
open without reason other than for his wonder and interest.
"So," concluded Mr. Robert Rack, very calmly and gently, as he had
spoken all along, "suppose you leave the whole matter with me for the
present. You better stay in town until to-night or maybe to-morrow, in
case I should want you. Just now I wish you to do only one other thing,
but that is very important. Telegraph or telephone your friends in
Griffin to hold the Torpedo. Don't let it get out of their hands under
any circumstances. If they ride out in it, they should not leave the car
unattended anywhere for one moment."
As if treading on air, such was their elation, the two boys were leaving
the office. "Oh, just a moment!" called Mr. Rack quietly. "Was the name
'Fielderson Brothers' on the cans of paint found in the car you picked
up, do you remember?"
"Yes, but they are the manufacturers. Their paint can be bought
anywhere," Phil replied.
"Yes," the detective answered, apparently the least bit amused.
With eager interest and pleasure Phil and Dave composed a telegram to
Billy and Paul. After many efforts the following is the message they
completed and sent:
"Don't let Torpedo leave Creek's garage for any purpose. Expect
to find Six soon. Must stay here until to-morrow. Wire care of
Auto club."
With the telegram safely dispatched, the boys found a pleasant,
inexpensive hotel where they engaged a room. They went to a restaurant
for dinner, then resolved to write some letters, first to the folks at
home, assuring them of the hopeful outlook, then to Billy and Paul who
would be keen to learn all that had taken place. A letter would reach
them the following morning.
"I would rather have telephoned," said Phil. "They'll be wild for more
news after getting our telegram, but we've spent so much money on long
distance calls and railroad fare, to boot, the last two days!"
And in addition to Phil's remark I am able to state, in confidence, that
the funds of the Auto Boys would soon need replenishing if many more
railroad tickets must be bought or other considerable bills paid.
For it will be remembered there were four lusty appetites to be provided
for, to say nothing of the extra expenses they were meeting. The
possessors of two of the "vast voids" (one of Paul's names for the four
appetites) found meal-time less pleasant now, however, than when Phil
and Dave were with them. Indeed, Paul accused Worth of being absolutely
"grumpy," whatever that may be, as they sat at breakfast in the American
House on Tuesday morning.
This was the day Phil and Dave were in Pittsfield, it will be recalled.
"And I'll bet we've done more than they have," said Paul, referring to
the absent ones. He was thinking of the man in the town jail and of
Billy's talk with that untractable person.
"I did think we had made quite a start," said Billy, droopingly. "But
what's come of it? Nothing!"
"Cheer up, cheer up!" chirped Jones blithely. "We'll get busy again
to-day. Hurry up, too! These pancakes are made out of old burlap. I know
they are! I used to think it was perfectly grand to eat in hotels and so
forth but, golly! wouldn't some fodder from home taste good right now?
Honestly, I'm getting tired of burlap pancakes, puree of shavin' soap,
pincushions a la hay, fried towels and all the other strange things you
get under strange names in these places. I----"
But Billy said, "If we're going to get busy, let's do it," and promptly
he led the way out to the office. "Better see Mr. Fobes, hadn't we?" he
suggested.
Just why Worth wanted to see the police officer he possibly did not
know, beyond the slight chance that the man in the lockup may have had
something to say to him. Yet it did happen that while the two sought
Chief Fobes, the latter was seeking them. They met in front of the bank.
"Our fellow in the cooler has been asking for you. He may let go of
something yet if you go at him easy." These words, addressed
particularly to Billy, took the pair to the jail quite bubbling with
expectancy. They fully believed the prisoner knew something of their
car--believed it regardless of Willie Creek's mild protest that the man
was fooling them.
Again Chief Fobes escorted Worth through the dim corridor to the
somewhat lighter basement cells. A window in the rear of the building
was open, looking out upon a yard with trees and shrubbery. The prisoner
was apparently enjoying the breeze that drifted in.
"Can't I talk to the kid a second, boss?"
The one behind the bars having spoken thus, though he still turned his
face toward the corridor window, Chief Fobes motioned Billy forward
while he stepped back a few paces.
"Say, bub, did ye see that guy? Did ye tell 'im?"
For a fraction of time Worth did not understand. Then recalling more
clearly the chance remark about "Smith" at the hotel, he answered, "No."
"Didn't, eh? Why didn't ye?"
"You got mad yesterday and wouldn't talk sense or anything else. Why
should I pay any more attention to you? Tell me what you know about the
car you took that motor basket from and I'll do anything you ask that's
reasonable."
"Ye was just lyin' to me about that man Smith, now wasn't ye?" the man
returned in a low, earnest voice, ignoring Billy's request. And then he
added as the boy hesitated, and swearing as he had done the previous
day, "Aw, I was just a-kiddin' ye--just a-kiddin' ye to pass the time
away."