A GREAT SURPRISE
Dave looked the boy he had followed and run to cover squarely in the
eye. There could be no mistake as to his identity. The scar on his face
showed plainly. For all of his gay clothes and jaunty appearance, the
fellow had the same repellant features that Dave had noticed at the
lodging house the night he was robbed.
For a minute the fellow looked surprised. Then his memory quickened to
recognition. He turned pale, his lips trembled, and he blurted out
unsteadily:
“W—what do you want?”
“I want you,” said Dave simply and sternly.
Quick as a flash the boy thief realized his situation, it seemed. He
made a move for which Dave was unprepared. Making a light spring, one
hand extended, he swept Dave clear of the threshold of the room, and
sent him crashing back against the other wall of the corridor.
Before Dave could recover himself the door was violently slammed shut.
Dave heard the key turn in the lock. Then there were hurried movements
about the room.
Dave was mad at being outwitted. He was determined, too. He threw
himself against the door, but could not budge it.
“Open this door!” he shouted, pounding upon the panels. “It will be the
better for you.”
No attention was paid to this. Dave continued to hammer on the door.
“You’re a thief!” he cried. “I’ll rouse the whole hotel and leave you
publicly disgraced if you don’t come out. I want back the property you
stole from me, and I’m bound to have it.”
Dave made a spring. His foot landed on the outside door knob. He caught
at the tilted transom to steady himself. Just then a figure came
hurrying down the corridor. Dave’s foot was seized and he was dragged to
the floor.
“Here, what you up to, with all this noise?” demanded his captor, a hall
man of the hotel, by his uniform.
“There’s a thief in that room,” cried Dave breathlessly.
“A thief?”
“Yes.”
“How do you know?”
“He robbed me. He just slammed the door in my face. Have you a key to
that room?”
“Why, yes, but——”
“Unlock the door, then. I’ll face him down for you. You can take both of
us to the hotel clerk, and I’ll speak the truth.”
The hall man hesitated a trifle, but Dave’s earnest urging induced him
to produce a bunch of keys. Dave rushed into the room. He looked all
around it.
“Why,” he cried, “it’s empty! The fellow is gone!”
Dave peered into a closet, under a bed, and then ran to the window.
There the hall man was looking at a coat and hat lying on the platform
of the fire escape, just outside of the casement.
“This is a queer go,” he said, slowly and dubiously, “but there seems to
be something to your story.”
“I should think there was, a whole lot,” declared Dave. “Don’t you see?”
“What?”
“The fellow has escaped. He knew I was bound to get into this room.
Those things fell out of his satchel as he got through the window.”
“Yes, his satchel is gone, that’s so,” observed the hall man. “Say, you
had better report this to the clerk.”
Dave was very much disturbed and disappointed. There could be no doubt
that the boy thief had escaped by the window route. It would probably be
in vain to try to follow him now. Dave dashed out into the corridor and
ran down the stairs, not waiting for the elevator.
The clerk was talking to a guest, polite and imperturbable. He simply
inclined his head as Dave burst forth:
“The boy in 47.”
“Ah, yes!” answered the hotel clerk.
“Who is he?”
The clerk turned the big register around, flipped back a page or two,
and set his finger on a name.
Dave read it, and nearly fell down where he stood. He had never been so
startled and dumbfounded in his life. The name on the register, written
in a big, sprawling hand was——
“Dave Dashaway!”
Dave grasped the marble counter slab for support with both hands. He
gasped and started.
“My name!” he exclaimed. “Why, what does this mean?”
“What’s the trouble?” inquired the guest, who had been conversing with
the clerk. He could not help but notice Dave’s perturbation.
“Why,” cried Dave, “I followed a fellow here, to room 47. He is a thief.
He robbed me of valuable property two weeks ago. He just slammed the
door of his room in my face.”
“A thief?” spoke the clerk, arching his eyebrows. “Are you pretty sure?”
“I should think so,” retorted Dave, “seeing that, rather than meet me,
he has made off by the fire escape, baggage and all.”
The hotel clerk blinked in his usual calm way, but touched a bell to
summon the hall man from the fourth floor.
“And he stole my name,” cried Dave. “Why?”
“Is that your name?” inquired the clerk, pointing to the register.
“It is,” assented Dave.
“Strange. Let me see, forty-seven—Dashaway,” and the clerk went to a
case covered with little cards and selected one. “Oh, yes, has been here
twice in a week. Prompt pay. Old gentlemen with him here once,
grandfather, I believe. Very respectable old man.”
“See here,” said Dave realizing that he was wasting time, “I don’t want
to make you any trouble, but I must report this to the police.”
“The only thing to do, I should say,” replied the clerk.
“Where is the nearest police station?”
“Two squares down, one square south.”
“Thank you,” said Dave, and darted away.
He hurried out of the hotel and up to the automobile he had recently
left.
“Wait here,” he directed Hiram.
“Is it the boy you supposed?” asked Hiram.
“Yes. I can’t explain now. I’ll be back in five minutes.”
Dave was not afraid to face the police on this occasion. He could now
use the name of Mr. King. He planned to have the police get promptly on
the trail of the boy thief.
Dave located the police station and ran up its steps. At a desk in a
large room sat the office clerk, writing.
“I want to report a case of robbery,” said Dave.
“All right, see the lieutenant,” responded the clerk.
“Where is he?”
“That’s his room yonder,” was the reply, and the man pointed to a small
room leading off from the main apartment. “He’s off with a squad, but
he’ll be back soon.”
Dave moved over to the open doorway indicated. He was greatly excited
over all the incidents of the past two hours, and hardly had the
patience to wait for the lieutenant.
He decided to go into the room, however, and wait for the official’s
return. The minute he stepped across the threshold, however, he was
aware that the room held two occupants.
Then Dave Dashaway discovered something else, that was the surprise of
his life. First one, and then the other of the two occupants of the room
arose in a hurry.
“Why, what luck—the very boy!” sounded one voice.
“Dave Dashaway!” cried the other.
And the boy aviator came to a standstill with a shock, as he recognized
his old guardian, Silas Warner, and the sheriff from Brookville.
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