DISCOVERED
Tom had remarked to Sam, when discussing the matter of trying to
discover what was going on between Captain Hawkesbury and Mr.
Doolittle, that there were at that time only two hotels in Garrison
where it was likely the meeting would take place. One hostelry was not
far from the dock at which the two cadets landed, and they stopped at
this one first.
“Better take a look around,” suggested Sam, as they approached the
hotel. “The captain might be in the corridor, or outside somewhere, on
the lookout for us.”
“I don’t think he suspects anything,” Tom said, “but, at the same time,
it is well to be on the watch.”
Accordingly they looked carefully up and down the street. There was no
sign of the old army officer.
Tom and Sam also glanced cautiously about the corridor as they
approached the hotel desk. Just what their plans would be, in case they
found Mr. Doolittle stopping there, neither could say. As Tom had
remarked, they might be forced to invent something on the spur of the
moment.
“Mr. Doolittle, no, he isn’t stopping here,” the clerk said, as he
nodded to the cadets. He knew where they were from, of course. A single
look at their erect carriage and their alert, soldierly manner, told
that.
“Then he must be over at the other place,” said Tom. He knew the clerk
would have no reason for deceiving him, but of course Mr. Doolittle
might have requested that his name be kept off the register--at least
for a time.
Tom thought of this.
“You know Mr. Doolittle, of Chester?” he asked the man behind the desk.
“Yes, he has stopped here occasionally, but of late I understand he
has taken his patronage elsewhere,” the clerk said, with a smile. “As
a matter of fact, personally, I am not sorry,” he went on. “He was, if
you’ll excuse my saying so--”
He appeared to hesitate, as though he did not want to make a slighting
remark in case Tom and his chum were friends of the man in question.
“Oh, go as far as you like,” laughed Sam.
“Well, he’s a big crank, that’s the worst I could say of him,” declared
the clerk. “He made my life miserable with his complaints and his
wants. I’m glad he was wished on some other hotel.”
There was no question now as to the clerk’s aiding Mr. Doolittle in
keeping secret his visit to this hotel. He must be at the other one.
Thanking the clerk for his information, Tom and Sam left to make
another call. The second hotel was in the business section of the city,
but within walking distance, and the two chums soon found themselves
nearing it.
“Go a bit easy,” suggested Sam.
“That’s right,” agreed his chum.
They looked up and down the street. No person resembling Captain
Hawkesbury was in sight. Nor could Mr. Doolittle be seen.
“Well, let’s make a stab at it,” suggested Tom, rather desperately, and
they entered.
There was no need to ask the hotel clerk if Mr. Doolittle was a guest.
The register was open and swung around facing them, having been left so
when a man, who preceded Tom and Sam, put down his name in the book.
And there, among the other signatures, was that of Aaron Doolittle.
“He’s here, Sam,” said Tom, quickly, but in a low voice.
“Is he? That’s good. Well, what’s the next move?”
“I don’t know. I want to think. Let’s go to a quiet place and sit down.”
The clerk saw the two cadets standing near the book. He dipped the pen
in the ink, and held it out to them suggestively.
“Do you want single rooms, or a double one?” he asked.
“Neither one,” answered our hero, with a smile. “We came to see Mr.
Doolittle,” he added, quickly making up his mind to a certain plan. “Is
he in?”
The clerk turned to look at the key rack.
“He’s out,” he answered. “I remember now, he went out a little while
ago.”
“Can you tell me where?” Tom pursued. “It’s rather important,” he
added, seeing the clerk hesitate.
“Why, yes, he left word where he could be found,” the clerk said. “He
stated that he was expecting rather an important telegram, and I am to
send it to him. You’re not by any chance the telegram, are you?”
“No,” answered Tom, smiling, “but I have something important to
communicate to Mr. Doolittle.” That statement was certainly true.
“You’ll find him at Lawyer Royse’s office,” the clerk said. “It’s two
blocks up the street, on the other side. Mr. Doolittle went there with
Captain Hawkesbury a little while ago.”
“Yes, I know,” said Tom, quickly. “Thank you. I’ll call on him there at
once. Come on, Sam,” he added.
“What’s the game?” his chum asked him in a low voice, as they left the
hotel.
“This,” replied Tom, rapidly. “They have evidently gone to a lawyer’s
office to fix up some game. Matters must have developed and be going
against them. They’re afraid!”
“But what can you do at the lawyer’s office?”
“I don’t know--I’m not sure. But I know this Mr. Royse by reputation.
He stands very high in his profession. I feel sure if Doolittle and the
captain asked him to do something that was not right, even though it
was strictly legal, he would refuse.”
“You mean he wouldn’t take their case and try to keep that money away
from your mother?”
“That’s it. I’m going to appeal to Mr. Royse, after Doolittle and the
captain get through, tell him the whole story, and ask him to do the
square thing.”
“I don’t know but that’s a good plan, Tom. I’m with you. Come along.”
They hurried up the street toward the lawyer’s office. As yet they had
not seen the captain or Mr. Doolittle, though they realized that either
of the two men might have observed them, and be on their guard. But
they must take some chances.
“This is the place,” Tom said, as they halted in front of an office
building “Now for it.”
They mounted the stairs, a directory on the lower floor telling them
that the offices of Mr. Royse were on the second story. At the head of
the second flight they saw a door, with a ground-glass panel on which
was painted the lawyer’s name, and the word “Entrance.”
“Shall we go in?” asked Sam.
Tom hesitated a moment and then took a desperate resolve.
“Yes,” he said, “we’ll face ’em both if they’re in there. I’ve got to
end this suspense. Let’s go in.”
They opened the door. To their surprise the room was vacant. There was
a litter of papers and dirt on the floor, but not so much as a chair or
desk. The room opened into another, and that was equally bare.
“Why--why!” gasped Tom, blankly.
“He’s moved out,” Sam said. At the same time he picked up from the
floor, near the entrance, a small card. On this card it was stated that
Mr. Royse had moved his offices up one flight.
“This card was stuck in the door,” said Sam. “It fell out. He must have
moved up recently. Shall we go up?”
“Yes,” said Tom, “I guess we--”
He stopped suddenly. Both he and Sam heard a murmur of voices, and then
came one in louder tones. They both recognized the accent of Captain
Hawkesbury.
“Where does that sound come from?” Tom whispered.
Silently Sam pointed to the ceiling. There was a hole, evidently cut
for a stove pipe, or for ventilation. The building was an old one. The
hole in the ceiling went through the floor in the present offices of
the lawyer. It made a perfect sounding device.
As Tom and Sam listened, they could hear plainly all that was said in
the room above. Tom recognized the voices of Captain Hawkesbury and Mr.
Doolittle. The other voice he judged to be that of the lawyer.
Mr. Doolittle was speaking.
“And so you see,” he stated, “we must do something, now that Tom is
approaching the age set in the trust deed. Of course Captain Hawkesbury
and I realize that it is a ticklish legal proceeding, but we are
willing to pay well for what you can do. I will not give up the money.
I worked hard enough for it, and if it had not been for me the railroad
company never would have bought Taylor’s land.”
“Yes, and I helped put the deal through,” said the captain. “I am going
to keep my share from that little whiffet! I’ll break him yet! Can you
help us out, Mr. Royse? It’s too bad I haven’t the draft of that trust
deed, but perhaps we can do without it.”
“Now let me understand the situation, gentlemen,” said the voice of the
third speaker, evidently the lawyer.
Tom clapped his hand on Sam’s shoulder.
“We’ve discovered ’em!” he exclaimed exultingly.