Alan Hope spent most of the next day at the offices of the Universal
Transportation Company, and was inclined to scoff at the idea of his
being watched. Nevertheless he had a loaded automatic revolver tucked
away in his hip pocket, and, as night drew on, his assurance began to
ooze gradually, and he felt more than once to make sure that his weapon
was still there ready for defense.
Ned Napier was really impressed with the threats of the mysterious
German, and, though he did not arm himself as Alan had, he kept a sharp
lookout for suspicious characters about him. All day long he wandered
with an air of affected carelessness through the downtown shopping
district, made a couple of short business calls, ate leisurely at the
Ritz, and seemed to have no thought of anything but home and bed for
that evening.
Buck Stewart arose early that morning, ate a hearty breakfast, and when
he started out took with him what was apparently an ordinary cane, but
which really was a rod of steel, encased in leather. Many reporters
carry them when they are sent out on assignments into dangerous
sections of the city.
Swinging his stick jauntily, he made his way first to the offices of
the _Herald_, where a brief chat with the managing editor readily
procured him permission to accompany the Airship Boys on their trip.
The editor, in fact, made a regular assignment of it and cautioned Buck
to take along with him plenty of pencils, notebooks and a small camera
that could be swung over one shoulder with a strap.
Thus burdened, Buck again sought the street. Leaving “Newspaper Row”
behind, he sauntered along, stopping now and then to look at articles
in the shop windows, and finally decided to see the matinee at the
_Casino_.
Broadway was thronged with the usual afternoon crowd of beautiful
women and fashionably dressed idlers for which it is famous. The
reporter shouldered his way through these, a little self-conscious
of the bumping camera-box over his shoulder and the way his pockets
bulged with surplus notebooks. Once a tall, plainly dressed man with a
close-cropped beard bumped into him. There was a mutual exchange of
apologies and the crowd soon swallowed him. Later on Buck met a fellow
newspaperman in front of the Astor and stopped to chat with him. An
inadvertent side glance during this conversation discovered the same
bearded stranger standing just to one side of the hotel entrance, as
if hesitating whether to go in or not. There was no recognition in his
cold eyes as Buck’s glance caught his, but the reporter’s heart gave a
little jump.
“Pshaw!” growled Buck to himself, “I’m getting to be a regular old
granny! Here I see the same passer-by twice in an afternoon on Broadway
and am afraid that he’s a spy waiting to sandbag me.”
His uneasiness was not thus to be laughed off though, and spoiled his
enjoyment of the performance at the theatre. He scanned the audience
around him narrowly to see if the bearded man was among them, and was
relieved at failing to find him.
After the show Buck again wandered aimlessly through the streets. He
was keenly on the alert for spies, and found merely killing time to be
harder than he had thought it would be. The strain was beginning to
tell on his nerves. At dusk a million lights flashed out in a dazzling
array of figures and designs and the Great White Way made good its
name. But Buck was tired of it by then. He strolled over to near-by
Fifth Avenue, where there were fewer people to jostle him and the
rattle of the streets was less distracting. He felt, for no apparent
reason, increasingly sure that he was being followed.
To make sure of his suspicions Buck walked at times very slowly; at
others rapidly; but he observed no suspicious “shadows.” True, there
were a number of people walking behind him, but his inspection revealed
nothing sinister about them.
Buck told himself that his fears were silly--that he was as bad as a
girl in the dark. Still the vague dread oppressed him.
He ate in a small restaurant just off Fourth Avenue, entering the place
at the same time as two other men whose dress indicated them to be
shop clerks, or something of the kind. When he arose to pay his bill
and leave, they did also. At the counter, one of them brushed as if
accidentally against him, and Buck felt deft fingers pass swiftly over
his pockets as if searching for something. Was the fellow feeling to
see if Buck carried a revolver?
The reporter wondered, but said nothing to the strangers. Their
faces were innocent enough and their eyes met his questioning glance
candidly. Buck went on out into the night and they followed close on
his heels. As he stood quietly in the doorway there, however, the men
bade each other good night and parted--going in opposite directions
along the street. Finally they disappeared in the darkness.
Buck was sorely perplexed. He felt absolutely certain that it was
unsafe for him to be wandering about alone, yet it was several hours
too early to start for Newark. Finally he decided to take in several
moving picture shows as the safest way to keep out of danger. One of
the men whom he had seen in the little restaurant was lounging outside
of the first playhouse Buck visited. Before the films were fully run
the reporter slipped out through one of the side exits into an alley.
It was so dark there that he hardly could see the ground under foot.
Twenty assailants might be waiting in the gloom for aught he could
tell. The reporter was not ashamed to take frankly to his heels and
rush out onto the lighted street as fast as he could. He noticed that
the lounger had disappeared from the theatre doorway.
Hoping now that he had thrown his unknown pursuers off the trail,
Buck visited a second moving picture playhouse. There a drunken man
plumped roughly down into the vacant seat next to him and tried to pick
a quarrel without any excuse at all. The reporter would have taken
this as rather a joke had it not been that there was no vile odor of
intoxicants on this drunkard’s breath. Shoving the rough to one side,
Buck hurried out of the theatre, walked quickly down the street to the
next corner; crossed there to see if he was followed; turned the next
corner; walked two blocks along an ill-lighted deserted side street and
there jumped into a dark doorway to listen.
Yes! there was no mistake about it! He could hear the patter of running
feet less than a quarter of a block behind. Ere Buck had time to flee,
rubber heels on the pursuers’ shoes deadened their footfalls again and
two shadowy figures appeared directly in front of his hiding place.
They paused there, breathing hard, and holding a hasty conference.
“How ever did he get away from you, Hermann?” snarled the bigger of the
two men to the other, whom Buck now recognized as the “drunken man” of
the theatre.
“Why talk about that now that he has again eluded us?” he growled. “If
only we had him here on this dark street, we could soon finish with
him.”
“Yes, we must catch him at once. He must still be in the neighborhood
and isn’t armed. I made sure of that in the restaurant a couple of
hours ago. But anyway, he can’t go far without Otto, Wilhelm or some of
the others seeing him. They are covering all of these three streets,
you know.”
The man addressed as Hermann grunted his assent.
“I’m winded from that run after the fool,” said he. “Let’s sit down in
this doorway and rest for a few moments.”
Buck’s heart began to beat faster. He knew that his discovery and
assault were only a matter of a few seconds. The scoundrelly pair had
now approached within arm’s reach of him, so without further delay the
reporter swung aloft his loaded cane and brought it down in a smashing
side blow on the head of the nearest man.
[Illustration: _A Narrow Escape._]
A bellow of rage and pain shocked the neighborhood into wakefulness. As
the second man leaped savagely at him, Buck evaded a wicked knife
stab and struck him full between the eyes with his clenched fist. The
fellow reeled, jerked a pistol from his pocket and emptied it blindly
at the place where his combatant had stood an instant before.
But Buck was bounding down the street as fast as his legs could carry
him, his camera bumping clumsily against his back. A cross-town trolley
car was clanging the bell down the next street and the breathless
reporter made a running jump to catch it. Just as he did so a third man
with a closely-cropped beard sprang after him from the curb. He caught
the camera and gave a mighty tug at it which broke the strap, and, with
the box in his hands, sent him sprawling backwards in the street. The
rushing trolley car did not stop, and Buck’s extraordinary agility was
all that enabled him to swing aboard safely.
“It’s a fine night, mister,” said the conductor, as he rang up the fare.
Buck answered him with the sourest of stares.