A COWARD AND HIS WAYS.
Peggy awoke the next day with a feeling of distinct uneasiness. She and
her aunt had sat up till after midnight awaiting Roy's return, but, as we
know, the lad was in a position from which he could not extricate
himself. An attempt had been made to communicate with the aviation
grounds, but an unlucky aeroplane had blundered against the telephone
wire during an afternoon flight, snapping the thread of communication.
In spite of the late hour at which they had retired, however, Miss
Prescott and her niece were up betimes. But early as it was they found
the little town all astir. Excursion trains were already pouring their
crowds into the place and the streets were fairly alive with humanity.
Peggy's first act on awaking was to gaze out of the window, beneath which
some fine trees grew. Not a breath of wind stirred their leaves. The air
was as clear and undisturbed as it was possible for it to be.
Donning a white duck skirt and a plain shirt waist, and dressing her hair
in a becomingly simple style, Peggy hastened to the office of the hotel,
and going to the telephone switchboard asked the operator to put her in
communication with Roy's room. But after several minutes spent in a vain
attempt to obtain an answer Central had to inform the anxious girl that
there was no reply.
Thinking that after his late absence of the night before Roy might have
overslept, Peggy despatched a bellboy to his room. But the report came
back that the room was empty and that Roy's bed had not been slept in.
"See if you can get the executive office on the aviation grounds," said
Peggy to the 'phone girl. But although the wire had been repaired and
communication was easily established, there was no news of Roy. Worse
still for Peggy's peace of mind, she learned now, for the first time,
that there had been no meeting at the aviation field the night before.
"If your brother got a note to that effect it was a forgery," said the
official who answered the call.
Peggy fairly flew upstairs to her aunt's room. Rapidly she informed Miss
Prescott of what had happened.
"Oh, I'm certain now that that hateful Fanning Harding has something to
do with it," she almost sobbed.
"Hush, dear," said her aunt, although in the gentle lady's breast a great
fear had arisen, "everything may be all right. At any rate, I do not
believe that any one, no matter how anxious they were that you should not
compete in the race, would dare to resort to such methods to keep Roy out
of the contest."
"I don't know so much about that, auntie," rejoined the girl. "I was in
our hangar yesterday afternoon and I noticed a horrid looking man
prowling about with Fanning Harding. If it had not been too improbable I
should say that I knew the man's face."
"My dear!" exclaimed the good lady in astonishment.
"Well," rejoined Peggy with conviction, "I'm almost sure that the man was
Jukes Dade, a workman who once was employed in his laboratory and
workshop by my father. He was a skillful mechanic, but dad had to
discharge him because he drank fearfully. He swore at the time that he
would get even with us in some way. But we never heard any more of him.
Yet if that really was him with Fanning Harding yesterday I'm awfully
afraid that there is some mischief stirring."
"What you say, my dear, makes me also very anxious," responded Miss
Prescott. "Perhaps we had better communicate with the police at once."
"Not yet, aunt," breathed Peggy; "you see, Roy may turn up in time for
the race, and if he does, everything will be all right."
"But, Peggy----"
"On the other hand, if we spread an alarm that he is missing we shall be
declared out of the contest."
"I see what you mean, my dear," was the response, "and I suppose that
what you say is best. I feel positive, somehow, that we shall have news
of Roy before long, and that no harm has come to him."
But the morning wore on, and no word came. In the meantime, every
available source of information had been canvassed thoroughly without
result. Roy Prescott had totally vanished; or so it seemed.
Peggy, as in duty bound, spent all she could spare of the morning at the
aviation field, putting the finishing touches on the Golden Butterfly.
The big contest was not to be held till the afternoon, and in the
meantime, some of the smaller events were flown off. But Peggy was too
heartsick to watch the aeroplanes thunder around the course, which was
marked out by red and white "pylons" or signal towers.
Instead, she remained in the hangar and kept a watchful eye on Fanning
Harding, who, with some mechanics and the same man she had noticed about
the hangar the day before, was very busy over his machine, apparently.
But no one obtained even a glimpse of Fanning's air craft, for it was not
wheeled out, and, except when one or the other of his party dodged in or
out, the doors of his hangar were closed.
In the course of the morning Fanning's father arrived, and not long
after, to Peggy's unbounded delight, Jess and Jimsy and a party of
friends drove up to the Prescott hangar.
"Why, Peggy, what is the matter with you? You look
positively--er--er--dowdy!" exclaimed Jess, gazing at her friend after
first greetings were over.
"And Roy, where is Roy?" demanded Jimsy.
"Yes, where is he? We want him to explain the points of this gasolene
turkey-buzzard to us," cried Ed. Taylor, one of the gay party.
"I expect him here any minute," rejoined Peggy, and then drawing Jess and
Jimsy aside she related to them, in a voice that shook in spite of
herself, the mysterious occurrences of the night, and Roy's total
disappearance.
"I'm going right over now and ask Fanning if he knows anything about it,"
announced Jimsy indignantly as soon as the girl had concluded.
"Oh, don't, please don't," begged his sister.
"I don't think it would be wise to, now," put in Peggy.
But Jimsy was not to be shaken in his purpose. Fanning was outside his
hangar smoking a cigarette and swaggering about when Jimsy approached
him. Perhaps the self-assertive youth felt a bit alarmed at the look in
Jimsy's eye as he stepped up, but he assumed an impudent expression and
blew out a puff of smoke which he did not try to avert from Jimsy's face.
"Good morning, Fanning," said Jimsy, bottling up his temper at the
other's insulting manners, "can you give me a few minutes of private
conversation?"
"Hum, well I don't know. What's it about?" inquired Harding more
impudently than ever.
"It's about Roy, Fanning," said Jimsy seriously. "I want you to tell me
on your word of honor that you don't know where he is."
"Oh, you do, eh? Well, you have an awful nerve to come to me with such
questions. How do I know where he is?"
This question was somewhat of a poser for Jimsy. That impetuous youth had
approached the other more or less on an impulse, and now that the direct
question was put to him he felt that he could not, for the life of him,
put his suspicions into so many words.
"Well--er--you see," he said somewhat confusedly, "I had an idea that you
might have seen him."
"Well, I haven't, and what's more I don't want to," snapped Fanning
aggressively. He was quite cool now that he saw that Jimsy had nothing
definite against him in his mind, but only a vague suspicion.
"You really mean that, Fanning?" rejoined Jimsy earnestly. "His sister is
terribly worried. He hasn't been seen since last night."
"Is that so?" asked Fanning with a sudden accession of interest; "then he
can't race to-day, can he?"
"I wasn't thinking about the race," said Jimsy; "it was Roy himself I was
worrying about."
"Well, you may as well stop your anxiety," chuckled Fanning; "how do you
know he isn't off on a little spree, and----"
"That's enough, Fanning. Roy Prescott does not do such low-down things.
He----"
"Oh, you mean to imply that I do, eh?"
Fanning came forward pugnaciously.
"I'll tell you what it is, Jim Bancroft, you just take yourself away from
this hangar as quickly as possible. I don't want anything to do with you,
do you understand? It's none of my business if Roy goes off and forgets
to tell you where to find him. How do you know he hasn't gone off with
those jewels?"
"What do you mean?"
Jimsy's tone was as angry in reality now as Fanning Harding's had been
for effect a few seconds before.
But Fanning, in his bitter enmity toward Roy, could not see the danger
signals in Jimsy's honest gray eyes.
"What do I mean?" he drawled; "why, just this, that the investigation of
the police has taken a new turn in the last few days, and that Roy is
likely to be arrested within the next twenty-four hours for robbery. I'll
bet he got wind of it and skipped out. I'll bet----"
"How dare you?"
Peggy, eyes aflame, stepped up. Her bosom heaved angrily.
"How dare you say such things? You--you coward."
"Well, I ain't coward enough to steal a girl's jewels and then----"
"Hold on there, Fanning. Stop right there."
It was Jimsy's turn. But Fanning was too much worked up in his vindictive
anger to stop.
"I won't stop," he shouted. "I'll say it right out. Roy Prescott is a----"
But before he could utter another word Jimsy's fist had shot out, and
Fanning's chin happening to be in the way he felt himself suddenly
propelled off his feet and elevated into the air. He sought to recover
his balance as he reeled, but his foot caught in a bit of turf, and
whirling his arms about like one of those figures on the top of a barn he
measured his length.
"Had enough?" asked Jimsy mildly, rolling up his sleeves.
"No, you despicable young whelp!" roared Fanning, utterly throwing aside
all prudence. "I haven't."
He leaped to his feet and rushed toward Jimsy. As he did so Jess gave a
shriek. In the angry, half-crazed youth's hand there glistened a long
clasp knife.
"Jimsy! Look out!" cried the girl.
But before the frenzied Fan could spring upon Jimsy, who was utterly
unprepared for the production of the deadly weapon, a dainty foot in
white canvas outing shoes and silk stockings flashed out from under
Peggy's skirt. It caught Fanning as he sprang, and the next instant, for
the second time that day, he fell sprawling on the ground.