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CHAPTER VII
The Thief Turns Up

AS the others crowded around him, Bob held up a small business card. It had apparently been dropped near the museum’s truck, perhaps by the thief himself. On it was printed the name Thomas Jordan.

“Thomas Jordan!” exclaimed Mr. Lewis, reaching for the card. “Why, he’s a wealthy sportsman. Practically everybody has heard of him. Of course it couldn’t have been he that stole those specimens.”

Bob’s father agreed with him.

“Scarcely anybody is more respected,” he said.

“You say he’s a sportsman, huh?” said Joe thoughtfully. “What does he do?”

“A lawyer by profession,” Mr. Lewis returned. “But in addition he heads a private museum, merely as a hobby, I guess. Has a very wide collection of fauna from all parts of the world. He charges a small admission fee. Makes a lot of money at it.”

“Where does he get his specimens?” inquired Joe.

Mr. Lewis looked puzzled for a moment.

“Why, from different sources,” the naturalist replied. “Goes after some occasionally, buys some – ”

“Buys some, does he?” Joe still spoke in a very thoughtful voice. “Then might it not be possible that he will buy those that were stolen – get them from the thief, I mean?”

“By George!” exclaimed Mr. Holton, his eyes brightening. “You may be right, Joe. Strange that none of the rest of us thought of that now. Yes, it’s quite possible for such a thing to happen. Perhaps the thief has already made arrangements with this Mr. Jordan to sell him the specimens.”

“I suggest that we hunt up Jordan immediately,” came from Mr. Lewis. “But I refuse to think that he had a part in the robbery.”

“I don’t think so either,” put in Bob. “From what I’ve heard, he’s considered one of the leading citizens. But it’s possible that the thief could disguise himself as a dealer in wild animals and easily sell them to Jordan.”

“Chances are that is what will happen, if we do not interfere,” Mr. Lewis said. “So I believe we should look up this fellow at once.”

Bob’s father, having instructed the truck driver to return to the museum, led the way to his car. He desired to lose no time in calling on Mr. Jordan, who must be informed of the theft in time to prevent the sale of the stolen specimens.

The object of their remarks lived in a very fashionable residential section, which was at the very edge of the city. His private museum was located but a few squares from his home.

“If we can’t find him one place, perhaps we can another,” said Bob. “That is, if he hasn’t left the city.”

“In that case we’ll have as good a chance to see him first as the thief,” laughed Joe.

Some time later the four pulled up in front of a spacious home in an exclusive residential district. They left the car and moved up to the house.

A butler took the card Mr. Lewis handed him, standing aside a moment later for them to go in. Then, after taking their hats, he disappeared into another room.

The visitors had not long to wait. They had barely taken the chairs offered them when a tall erect man walked up to them.

“You are Mr. Jordan?” asked Joe’s father, rising.

“Yes.”

The naturalist introduced himself and his friends and then lost no time in getting to the point. He told of the theft in the freight yard, then of finding the attorney’s card.

“Naturally we resolved to hunt you up,” he said. “It is entirely possible that this thief has been to see you about buying specimens from him. Of course, you probably did not in the least suspect him. Or, if this is not the case, he got your card from some other source.”

Mr. Jordan was silent for several moments, as if in deep thought. Finally he turned to the others.

“I think I know the very man who stole them,” he announced.

“Good!” cried Joe impulsively.

“A very well-dressed chap,” the lawyer resumed, staring hard at the floor. “He came here about a month ago and said he dealt in all descriptions of specimens. But there was something about him that aroused my suspicions at once. Perhaps it was the way he acted. At any rate, I didn’t trust him. Appeared to be one of these, ah, slick, well-dressed rascals that you see so much of. I told him I desired nothing at present but rare specimens from Africa. He wore a blank look for a minute; then suddenly he gave a start and turned to me with a queer smile. ‘I’ll find you something,’ he said. ‘I think I know where I can get exactly what you want.’ I gave him one of my cards.”

“Perhaps that’s the very man we’re looking for,” said Bob. “Possible, anyway. Has he called you yet?”

“No. But if we think correctly, he may very soon now. Of course, though, he might wait till after the news of the robbery gets in the papers and has died down a bit.”

Mr. Holton shook his head.

“I’m of the opinion that he will sell those specimens before the news gets in the papers,” the naturalist said. “Perhaps he will pick today to do it. The sooner he gets them off his hands, the better chance he’ll have to get away without being found out.”

“Suppose you give me a description of them – the specimens, I mean,” Mr. Jordan suggested. “Then, if the thief comes, I’ll know at once and have him arrested.”

“That will be fine.” Mr. Lewis tore out a sheet of paper from his notebook and wrote down the names of each animal included in the collection. He handed the paper to the attorney.

“I shall be glad to do this for you,” the latter said. “If the thief comes, I’ll slip away somehow to a telephone.”

“We don’t know how to thank you enough,” Mr. Holton said gratefully. “In doing this you will be performing an invaluable service for the museum – ”

He stopped abruptly as he noticed the butler entering the room.

“Mr. Henry Overton to see you,” the servant announced, as the attorney arose.

Mr. Jordan took the card the butler handed him. He pondered for several minutes before speaking. Finally he turned his gaze upon the naturalists and their sons.

“Gentlemen,” he said with a smile, “I think the time is at hand. The thief, I believe, is here now.”

There were looks of surprise and astonishment on the faces of the visitors.

“Suppose we four hide in an adjoining room while you talk to this man,” suggested Bob Holton. “Then we can hear what’s being said.”

“You’re fairly sure the caller is the man we were talking about?” asked Mr. Lewis, hesitating a moment before following Bob’s move.

“No, not sure,” Mr. Jordan responded. “But he is a collector of wild animals. And that seems suspicious enough, doesn’t it?

“Tell you what,” he continued. “Suppose you four do as suggested – hide in this room and listen in on us. If it happens that the man is someone else, no harm will have been done.”

The naturalists and their sons needed no urging. They hurried into the next room and hid near the entrance. There was a curtain separating them from the reception room, and all crouched near to peep through.

Their hearts were in their mouths when a minute later a stranger was admitted.

“Doesn’t look much like a crook,” whispered Joe, as he noticed that the man was dressed handsomely.

“Look at his eyes, though,” returned Bob, also keeping his voice very low.

The four listeners strained every nerve to catch what was being said in the next room. They were delighted beyond expression when they found that they could make out every word of the conversation.

“I was here a good while ago,” the stranger was saying. “No doubt you remember me. You told me to let you know as soon as I found some rare specimens from Africa.”

“And you’ve found some?” asked Mr. Jordan rather impatiently.

“Ah, yes. You will be delighted when I tell you what they are. The rarest of the rare. Mounted beautifully by one of my expert taxidermists.”

He opened a small black satchel which he had carried. After a few seconds of nervous fumbling he removed a small leather notebook.

“Here,” he said, handing the book to Mr. Jordan. “The complete list of specimens is here. Each is described carefully. All told, there are five of the most unusual wild creatures imaginable.”

“Only five!” whispered Mr. Holton, appearing suddenly angered. “Why, there were ten in the box that was stolen.”

Almost at once the attorney broached the same matter.

“Five are all you have for sale?” he asked casually. “Why, that is only a small handful, so to speak.”

“Well, ah – ” the stranger hesitated before speaking – “I might be able to secure more for you.”

Mr. Jordan looked up suddenly.

“Is that so?” he asked quietly. “It’s rather surprising that you can have them so readily. Of course” – he laughed to relieve the tension – “you don’t go after them yourself, do you?”

The alleged buyer and seller of specimens faltered for a brief period, but at last looked up.

“These I was able to secure from a collector friend, who went on an expedition merely for the pleasure it afforded him, and not for the advancement of science.”

“Oh, yeah?” whispered Bob to his friends who were hiding like himself. “He got ’em from his ‘collector friend’ like I got ’em off a hot-dog stand.”

“No wise-cracking,” grinned Joe. “You might get me to laughing.”

The next few moments of conversation convinced the youths’ fathers that the man in the adjoining room was the thief. A few descriptions of the specimens, which Mr. Jordan purposely read aloud, were sufficient to convict the stranger in the minds of Mr. Holton and Mr. Lewis.

From then, the conversation appeared uninteresting, although Bob and Joe, as well as the naturalists, were anxious to see how the attorney would dispose of the stranger.

“And,” continued Mr. Jordan, “what are you asking for these five specimens?”

“The small sum of a hundred dollars,” was the reply.

Mr. Jordan gasped in astonishment. Only a hundred dollars for what should be worth a great deal more than that!

Meanwhile, in the next room, Joe had decided on a plan of action.

“Now that we are convinced that this man is the thief, we are free to do almost anything,” he began, speaking in a very low whisper.

The others looked at him inquiringly.

“My scheme is this,” Joe continued, “I’ll go out – ”

“If you’re doing anything, I’m in it with you,” interrupted Bob.

“All right, then. We’ll go out to this man’s car. It’s probably parked in front – ”

“Perhaps he came on a street car,” suggested Mr. Holton.

“In that case, my plan won’t work,” Joe said. “But if his car is out there, we’ll look inside it and see if we can find anything that will tell us where he lives. Then we’ll come back. What do you say?”

“Suits me,” returned Bob at once. “We’ll find something if there’s anything to be found.”

“And while you fellows are gone,” began Mr. Holton, “we’ll find some way to get Jordan in here to have him detain the thief as long as possible. But you be careful. There may be someone else in the car.”

As silently as they could, Bob and Joe made their way out of the room and in a roundabout manner found the front door. One glance across the spacious lawn told them that a roadster was parked at the curb. A more careful look convinced them that no one was in the car.

“Now’s our chance,” said Joe, leading the way out to the street. “Of course, this automobile might belong to someone else, but the chances are that it is owned – or at least run – by the man in the house.”

With a cautious look over their shoulders, the chums walked up to the parked car.

CHAPTER VIII
After the Specimens

“THERE should be a certificate of title somewhere,” said Joe Lewis, as he peered inside the parked automobile. “Or if there isn’t, maybe there’s a letter or something else that has his name and address on it.”

“Here’s a driver’s license,” announced Bob, who had reached into the pocket of the door. “Issued to Harry Walker, and the address is rural route. Let’s see the description. Height, five feet-eight; weight, one hundred-forty; eyes, brown; hair, black; age, fifty-one.”

“That’s the thief, all right,” said Joe conclusively. “It fits him to a T.”

“But the name,” argued Bob. “How do you figure that out? The fellow we think is the thief gave his name as Henry Overton, while this driver’s license has the name Harry Walker.”

“Maybe that was only an alias, or false name,” suggested Joe. “He could easily have changed that. But what do we do now, Bob?”

“More than I know. What do you suggest?”

“Suppose we go back in Jordan’s house and see our dads. We’ll have to hurry, though, or this thief will beat us to it.”

“To what?”

“As I was saying,” resumed Joe, “we’ll go back and get our dads, and the four of us can go out to this thief’s house and be there when he gets there.”

“Then what?”

“Easy enough. We’ll arrest him and make him get the stolen specimens.”

“But can we do it?” demanded Bob. “Will we be allowed to?”

“Sure. We’ve got the goods on him, haven’t we? We know that the specimens that Mr. Jordan read off are the stolen ones, don’t we?”

“All right. Lead the way.”

As quickly as they could, Bob and Joe went back in the house through a rear entrance. Then quietly they found the room in which Mr. Holton and Mr. Lewis were hiding.

The boys found their fathers waiting anxiously. The frown on their faces gave way to a smile as they caught sight of their sons.

“What did you find?” inquired Joe’s father.

Bob told of their desire to drive to the thief’s residence before the man could himself do so.

“I’m willing,” said Mr. Lewis, who was more than anxious to recover the stolen specimens. “While on our way we’ll stop at a police station and pick up an officer. I’d sort of hate to carry out your plan without doing that.”

Before leaving the house, Mr. Holton instructed the butler to inform Mr. Jordan of where they had gone. Then, with his son and friends, he hurried out to his car.

Mr. Lewis knew exactly where to find the residence of the thief, or at least the address that was on the driver’s license.

“It is several miles from here, but we’ll probably have a good start ahead of the thief,” Joe’s father said, as the automobile was driven out into a main traffic artery.

Before the four left the city limits, they stopped at a police station and secured the services of an officer. Now, with the protection of the law, they felt safe to continue the venture.

A half hour’s ride over a narrow country road brought them to a large house set back in a wide lawn.

“This must be the place,” observed Mr. Holton, bringing the car to a standstill. “I wonder if anyone is at home?”

“Better not leave the machine here,” warned the policeman. “If the guy we’re after should see it, he probably would not show up for us to catch him. Drive it farther toward the house, out of sight of the road.”

“Glad you reminded me,” Mr. Holton said, and drove still farther on.

All stepped out and made their way over the wide lawn. As a precaution against possible danger, the officer kept a ready hand on his revolver.

“You can’t tell who might be there to bump us off,” he said, his eyes on the house. “There could be several more outlaws waiting there.”

They reached the dwelling safely, however, and then knocked on the heavy door.

But either no one was there, or else they refused to admit the strangers, for the door did not open.

“No use keeping this up longer,” said the policeman. “We’d better hide around the side of the house and wait for the fellow we’re after. Feel sure he’ll come here?”

“We don’t know,” returned Bob. “This may not even be where he lives. He might have stolen the car he had from someone who does live here.”

They took places beside the house, at a point where they could command a good view of the road and driveway. How long it would be before the thief would show up, if at all, they had not the slightest idea. They hoped, however, it would not be long, for darkness was not far off.

Hardly five minutes had passed when Bob caught the arm of the policeman, who was nearest him.

“Listen!” the youth hissed. “There’s a car coming. Hear it?”

Sure enough, the faint sound of an approaching automobile was breaking the evening silence. Whether the vehicle was that of the thief, the hiding forms did not know. Their hopes were high, though, as the purring became louder.

Those hopes were not shattered, for a minute later the same car that had been parked in front of Mr. Jordan’s estate turned in the driveway.

“Look!” breathed Joe. “It’s the man we’re after, all right. He’s stopping. Sees our car and wonders why it’s here, I guess.”

At word from the policeman, the four stepped out and advanced toward the man. As they went nearer, the officer displayed his revolver.

“You’re under arrest,” he said. “Throw up your hands and tell us where you put those stolen goods.”

The man raised his arms and moved toward them. But he refused to further comply with the command.

“You are wrong – entirely wrong in your thinking,” he said in a crafty voice, a faint smile coming over his face. “You have made a terrible mistake and picked out one who is innocent. I know nothing about any stolen goods.”

“None of your monkey business,” snapped the policeman, advancing toward the man. “We’ve proof of your guilt and want the stuff you stole. Now, get it and get it fast, or I’ll be tempted to pass a .45 through your ribs!”

“But I say,” persisted the alleged thief, raising his voice to a high-pitched drawl, “I know nothing about what you are talking.”

Bob advanced toward him.

“What about those specimens you offered to sell to Mr. Jordan?” the youth demanded, never taking his eyes from the fellow. “Just where did you get them? It didn’t happen that you stole them out of a museum truck, did it?”

“Why, you – I’ll knock you over that fence!”

He moved toward Bob, but soon decided not to carry out his threat.

The policeman became even more impatient.

“Did you hear what I said?” he snapped, prodding the man with his revolver. “We want that stuff you stole, and we want it right now. You’d better talk!”

Much to the surprise of all, the man no longer denied his guilt. Instead, he motioned them to follow him up to the house. Whether he had been frightened by the officer’s terse command, or intended to resort to some means of escape, they did not know.

He produced a large bunch of keys and opened the heavy door, at the same time beckoning for his unwelcome visitors to follow.

“I’ll take those keys!” The policeman held out a hand.

The accused man hesitated a moment, then handed them over.

“What you want is in the basement,” he said, as he led the way through the large room. “I will get it for you, never fear.”

When almost at the rear of the house, he stopped and opened a narrow door. Then, switching on a light, he went down a steep flight of stairs, the others at his heels.

They were in the basement, threading their way between rows of boxes, when something unexpected happened. The light suddenly went off, leaving them in total darkness. The eyes of the pursuers, unaccustomed to the blackness, could make out nothing around them. It had happened so quickly that there was a short period of fumbling about.

Bob Holton felt a form brush past him rapidly, as if in wild haste.

The youth’s fist shot out and caught the form squarely with such force that he fell at once with a groan.

“I got him!” Bob cried. “Now to switch on the light.”

During the next few minutes there was a wild scramble in an attempt to find the concealed switch. At last, when it became apparent that it could not be found, Joe bent his efforts on finding the stairway, at the head of which Joe knew there was a switch.

A thrill of hope passed through him as he felt his foot touch the top step. Now there would be light, the youth thought.

Meanwhile, the others were still vainly searching for the concealed switch.

“I give it up,” sighed Mr. Holton, straightening out hopelessly. “Our only chance now is to find the switch at the head of the stairs.”

The words were barely out of his mouth when suddenly the light came on.

Bob uttered a wild cry of surprise.

“For the love of Pete!” he exclaimed. “I’ve knocked out the policeman!”

CHAPTER IX
Failure

AT Bob’s words of surprise, Joe burst out laughing. Mr. Holton could not help joining him, although he tried to restrain himself.

“That was about the craziest thing you ever did, Son,” Mr. Holton said, as soon as he could get his breath. “I’m afraid friend policeman will never forgive you.”

Bob grinned.

“I – Wait. He’s coming to.” The youth bent over the prone man.

“W-w-what happened, boy?” he demanded, sitting up and rubbing his jaw. “World come to an end?”

His friends laughed still harder.

“You – you tell – him, Dad,” pleaded Bob, as soon as he could manage to utter the words.

Mr. Holton sobered himself as best he could.

“There’s been a mistake,” he said, keeping his face straight with difficulty, “a terrible mistake. It seems that Bob here mistook you for the thief, He was the one that knocked you out.”

The officer stared for a moment at Mr. Holton. Then his gaze fell on Bob, who was wondering just what would be the outcome of his misdeed.

“I’m sorry,” the youth apologized. “When I felt you rushing past me so wildly I thought sure you were the thief running away. I should have made sure, though.”

The policeman continued to gaze at Bob.

“Well, all I can say, boy,” he began at last, still rubbing his chin, “is that you whip up a wallop of a punch. You’re the first bird that’s ever put Pat Callahan cold, and that’s something. I ain’t no runt, you know.”

“I hope you’ll forgive me, sir,” Bob said. “I’m terribly sorry.”

“Forget it.” The officer gained his feet. “We’d better be thinking about that thief,” he went on, looking about the basement, “though I suppose he’s miles away from here by now.”

Joe ran hurriedly up the basement steps and dashed on through the house. He reached the front door in but a few seconds, and then looked out over the lawn.

Then he uttered a cry of anger, as he caught sight of the thief running madly toward his automobile.

“Stop!” Joe commanded, running in that direction.

Exerting himself to the utmost, the boy pursued the fleeing man. He was but a short distance away when the latter jumped into his car and started the engine, a moment later shooting away toward the road.

Joe made an unsuccessful attempt to mount the running board, but failed. Then, criticizing himself for not arriving at the scene sooner, he watched the car turn up the road.

Impulsively, he jumped into Mr. Holton’s sedan, but found that the key was not there.

“We’re licked,” he moaned. “No use going after him. His car could run circles around Mr. Holton’s, anyway.”

He waited a little while for his father and friends to appear, but when they did not, he again went into the house.

“Joe! See anything of the fellow we’re after?” The speaker was Bob, who had appeared at the top of the basement stairs.

“Yeah, but it didn’t do me any good,” the other youth answered, and then told of his pursuing the escaped man.

“So he got away, did he?” said the policeman. “Well, we’ll fix him. There’s a telephone in that front room there. I’ll call up headquarters and tell them to stop him.”

“Maybe the wires have been cut,” suggested Mr. Lewis.

Somewhat to their surprise, the telephone was in working order.

After calling the police station and giving a complete description of the fleeing man and the car he was driving, the officer moved that they make a thorough search of the house in the hopes of finding the stolen specimens there.

“We men will look in the basement,” said the officer. “You younger fellows can search the upper floor. If you find anything, let us know right away.”

“Leave it to us,” chuckled Joe, as he led the way up the stairway. “If that stuff is up there, we’ll find it.”

“Maybe he took it with him in the car when he left,” said Bob. “He was a long time in leaving, you know.”

The chums searched the upper floor thoroughly but could find no trace of the stolen specimens. They went back over the rooms once more, but could again find nothing.

“I’m afraid we’ll have to admit defeat,” Mr. Holton said, when the chums had made their way downstairs. “We’ve looked all over the place, but it’s no use. One thing seems apparent: the thief took the specimens with him when he escaped.”

The situation was indeed most disappointing. They had come to this isolated house confident that they could recover the box of stolen specimens. Then, when they were about to find them and arrest the thief, the tables were unexpectedly turned. It was most disheartening, to the naturalists especially.

Although they had searched every section of the house, they resolved to look once more, even though it had become necessary to switch on electric lights. They also looked through several outbuildings.

An hour later, however, it became evident that nothing was to be found. Tired and downhearted, the five left the house and got in Mr. Holton’s car, ready to admit defeat.

The policeman took his leave at the police station, and then the others drove on home.

“The last we’ll see of those valuable specimens, perhaps,” moaned Mr. Lewis, as he brought the automobile up in front of the houses.

“Don’t be too sure of that,” spoke up Bob, assuming an air of optimism. “Like that officer said, with radio and all the latest inventions, police can trail anyone nowadays.”

“That’s right,” agreed Mr. Holton. “I certainly hope he’s caught.”

“And that they do it before we leave for Africa,” added Mr. Lewis.

“Africa!” repeated Bob longingly. The coming expedition to the Dark Continent had been absent from his mind all the afternoon and evening. “You will take Joe and me with you, won’t you? Please say that we can go. We’ll do all we can for the expedition and won’t cause any trouble.”

“There’s no danger of your doing that,” Mr. Holton said at once. “In fact, there have been times when Ben and I were glad you were near. But the hazard of it all, boys!”

“You know, Howard,” began Mr. Lewis, “I’ve been thinking this thing over, and I believe the trip to Africa would do the boys a world of good.”

“Hurrah!” cried Joe impulsively.

“They are plenty old enough to look out for themselves,” Mr. Lewis resumed. “And we’ll have to credit them with a lot of initiative. Personally, I am in favor of letting them go with us.”

Joe looked at his father hopefully, although in some surprise.

Bob seized upon the opportunity at once.

“That’s the way to talk, Mr. Lewis,” he said. “You see how we came out on that expedition into the Andes Mountains. Were successful in about everything. And the moving-picture house was well pleased with the pictures we took. There’ll be another opportunity to make money taking movies of Africa – if we can go.”

Mr. Lewis rose from his chair.

“Suppose we talk the matter over with their mothers,” he suggested. “And it won’t be easy to get their consent, either. But we can see what they think of it.”

Mr. Holton was very much undecided about the matter of allowing Bob and Joe to go, but he consented to do as Mr. Lewis suggested.

“Then,” he said, addressing the chums, “we can let you know later how things stand. All right?”

“Sure,” Joe answered. He felt that there was a big chance of things going in his favor. “But please don’t talk against it to our mothers.”

Mr. Holton smiled, and then, at a call from the Lewis residence, the little party disbanded.