The Rover Boys Down East: or, The Struggle for the Stanhope Fortune
TextCHAPTER XIX
ON THE WAY TO BOSTON
The Rover boys gazed down the road with interest. It ran between a number of tall trees, and looked to be lonely in the extreme.
“Where does it lead to?” asked Sam.
“It’s an old road, running to Shaville,” answered Tony Carew. “It ain’t hardly used any more.”
“And that is why those rascals took it,” answered Dick. “They wanted to keep in the dark as much as possible. How far to Shaville?”
“’Bout two miles.”
“Can you take us over in a carriage? We’ll pay you, of course.”
“To be sure! But, say, honestly, I didn’t have nuthin’ to do with carryin’ her off!” cried the old farmer.
“I believe you,” answered Dick. “But it’s a pity you didn’t report what you knew to the Cedarville police.”
“I didn’t want to git in no trouble.”
“Want me any more?” asked Caleb Belcher.
“We may want you,” answered Dick. “Stay here for a couple of hours, anyway.”
“My price is twenty-five cents an hour.”
“All right – and there’s a dollar on account,” and Dick passed the money over.
A fairly good horse and wagon were brought from the barn, and the boys and Tony Carew got in. Then the horse was urged forward, and over the uneven road they bumped, in the direction of the village of Shaville, a sleepy community, with one store, a blacksmith shop, a church, and about a dozen cottages.
When Shaville was reached the boys commenced a diligent search for some news concerning the carriage with the white and the black horse and the dilapidated top. At first they could find nobody who had seen such a turnout, but presently they met a tramp whom Sam stopped, and he gave them news that was surprising.
“I see ’em!” cried the tramp. “Say, boss, give me a dollar an’ I’ll tell you all I know.”
“You’ll tell all you know without the dollar!” cried Dick, and grabbed the knight of the road by the collar. “Come now, tell me, quick!”
“Don’t hurt me!” yelled the tramp. “I was only foolin’. Course I’ll tell you.”
He was subjected to close questioning, and from him it was learned that the carriage with the three men and the lady had passed through Shaville and turned towards Latown. The lady had tried to jump from the carriage just while it was passing the tramp, but the men had held her back. He had heard the men mention Latown, and also speak of an automobile.
“One feller was an old gent, who looked like a perfesser,” said the tramp.
“That must have been Crabtree,” said Tom.
“Can it be that they were going to leave the carriage and take to an auto at Latown?” came from Sam.
“Perhaps,” answered Dick. “If they did take to an auto it will be mighty hard to find them.”
Tossing the tramp a quarter, they went on their way, and presently reached Latown, and there hurried to the only garage the place possessed. There they learned that the garage owner had rented a touring car out several days before and it had not yet been returned.
“The fellow who rented it was to pay me ten dollars a day, but I didn’t think he’d keep it so long,” said the man. “He gave me his card.”
“Why, it is my card!” ejaculated Dick, on glancing at the pasteboard. “The nerve of him! Of course it was Sobber – or one of his cronies.”
It was not until nightfall that the boys learned what had become of the touring car. Then they found a boy who had seen the car, with three men and two women in it, speeding towards the Albany road. This lad took them to the very spot where he had seen the car.
“One of the ladies was terribly excited,” said the lad. “When she saw me, she shouted something and then threw one of her hair combs at me. Here is the comb now.”
“It must be Mrs. Stanhope’s,” was Dick’s comment. “She wanted it to be used to trace her by.”
“It is hers,” said Sam. “I remember, she had a pair of them.”
“What did she shout?” asked Dick.
“I couldn’t make out, exactly. It sounded like Boston – but I ain’t sure.”
“Boston?” repeated Dick. “Oh, it can’t be! That is too far away.”
“They might be headed for Boston. There is a fine road for autos from Albany to the Hub – the old post-road,” said Tom.
“I’ll telephone along the line and try to find out where they went,” answered Dick.
It was not until the next day that word came in from Albany that the automobile had been seen in that city. It had stopped at a garage to have a tire fixed. No one was in it at the time but a young man. He appeared to be in a great hurry, and had paid well for a rapid repair.
From Albany the auto was traced across the Hudson river and to North Adams. But that was the last heard of it.
“I am going to North Adams,” said Dick.
“It looks as if they did really go to Boston,” said Tom.
“Well, they could make the run in a day if they tried real hard. The distance is only about a hundred and fifty miles.”
All of the boys resolved to go to North Adams, and sent word to Cedarville to that effect. In return came a telegram from Mr. Rover, reading as follows:
“Run them down if you possibly can. Do not spare expense.”
“As if I would spare any expense!” murmured Dick. “I’d give all I possess to put Mrs. Stanhope back in her home, and put Josiah Crabtree back in prison!”
“And put Sobber in prison, too,” added Tom.
In North Adams the lads quite unexpectedly ran into Spud Jackson, who had been spending a few weeks with some relatives in the Berkshires. Spud was immediately interested in what the Rovers had to tell and proposed something that met with immediate approval.
“My uncle Dan has got a dandy car – fast as they make ’em,” said Spud. “Can go about a hundred miles an hour, I guess. Well, he lets me run it whenever I want to. Say the word and we’ll start for Boston tomorrow, and make inquiries all along the road.”
“Can you have the use of the car, Spud?” asked Sam.
“Positively. Uncle Dan said I could make a tour of the White Mountains if I wished, but I don’t care for the scenery much – too much of it, I guess. But going to Boston, to catch those rascals, would hit me plumb.”
So it was arranged that they should start eastward in the morning, and in the meantime Dick and his brothers sent out more messages.
“Who do you think the other woman in that touring car can be?” asked Sam.
“I don’t know, Sam,” answered his eldest brother. “Perhaps some unscrupulous party who was hired by Crabtree to look after Mrs. Stanhope.”
“Dad said he had heard that Sobber got his money to go to court from a woman who was his great aunt.”
“Well, she may be the one – most likely she is. I am only afraid of one thing.”
“What’s that?” asked Tom.
“That by some means old Crabtree will force Mrs. Stanhope to marry him before we can rescue her.”
“I wonder why she doesn’t try to run away,” came from Sam.
“Probably she has tried, Sam; but they watch her too closely.”
“If they went to Boston, what will they do there?” queried Tom.
“I don’t know – maybe take a liner for Europe, or to some other part of the earth. You must remember, they are playing for a big stake.”
The touring car that Spud brought around the next morning was certainly an elegant affair. It seated five and was of sixty-horse power. Spud quickly demonstrated that he knew how to run the machine, so Dick did not offer to do so.
“Now you do the bossing,” said Spud. “I’ll run her anywhere you please, even if you want to go to the top of Mount Washington.”
“We are going after that other auto, that’s all,” answered Dick, grimly.
The weather was ideal for touring and had they not been under such a mental strain the Rover boys would have enjoyed riding greatly. But they could think of nothing but Mrs. Stanhope and the missing fortune.
“I suppose Dora is waiting every hour to hear from us,” said Dick.
“Yes, and the Lanings are waiting, too,” added Tom.
“And dad, and the folks at home,” supplemented Sam.
They had sent a number of messages to Cedarville and now sent another, telling of their plans, and mentioning some towns at which they expected to stop. To this message no answer was returned until they reached Worcester, on the afternoon of the following day.
“Hello, here’s news!” cried Dick. “Say, we want to get to Boston just as soon as we can!”
“What is it?” asked the others, quickly.
“Father has received a postal card, mailed from Boston. It is signed by Mrs. Stanhope, and asked for help.”
“Does she give any address?” asked Tom.
“He says all there is of the address is 234 Carm. He says the rest is rubbed out.”
“Maybe we can find out in a directory what Carm stands for,” suggested Spud.
“Exactly, Spud. Say, will you get us to Boston just as soon as possible?”
“I sure will.”
“How far is it?”
“About thirty-five miles.”
“Then you can make it in an hour.”
“Yes, if – ” And Spud closed one eye suggestively.
“If what?”
“If they don’t arrest us for speeding. It’s against the law to run fast, you know.”
“Oh, well, we’ll have to take a chance,” declared Tom. “It’s a case of necessity.”
As soon as they were outside of the city limits, Spud turned on the gasolene and advanced the spark, until the touring car was making forty and then forty-five miles per hour. On they tore, through Westboro and other places, and then on towards Wellesley.
“Look out, here, that you don’t run down any college girls!” warned Dick, as they came in sight of Wellesley College.
“Oh, I wouldn’t run down any girls for the world!” answered Spud, as he slowed down a bit. Soon the main street of Wellesley was left behind and on they sped for Newton and the Hub.
“Hi! hi!” came a sudden call from the roadway, and a policeman appeared, waving his hand frantically.
“Sorry, but we can’t stop to talk!” flung back Spud, and in a minute the officer of the law became a mere speck in the distance. He had not gotten their number, so could do nothing.
They were just entering Boston proper when a loud report came from one of the rear tires. The car swerved to one side, and Spud had all he could do to keep it from going into a hitching post. Then he shut off the power.
“A blow-out!” announced Tom, as he leaped to the ground.
“That ends running for the present,” said Sam.
“So it does,” agreed Spud, mournfully.
CHAPTER XX
AN ADVENTURE IN BOSTON
The Rover boys looked at each other inquiringly. They wanted to go on, but did not know what to do about the stalled automobile.
“You go ahead,” said Spud, reading their thoughts. “I’ll fix the tire, or have it done by some garage man, and I’ll see you later.”
“Where?” asked Dick.
“I’ll go to the Parker House – that is where my uncle always goes,” answered Spud.
“Very well – we’ll call for you or send a message,” said Tom. “Come on, here is a trolley!” And he ran to stop the car. Soon he and his brothers were on board and bound for the heart of the city.
“Say, do you know any street in town that begins with Carm?” questioned Dick, of the car conductor.
“Carm?” repeated the man, slowly. “No, I don’t. I don’t believe there is such a street.”
“Do you know the streets pretty well?”
“I ought to – I drove an express wagon for four years.”
“That looks as if we were up against it,” said Dick, to his brothers.
“We’ll go in a drug store and consult a city directory,” answered Sam. “He may think he knows all the streets, but every city has a lot of places even the oldest inhabitant doesn’t know.”
They rode on a few blocks further and then, seeing a large drug store, alighted from the car and entered the place. A directory was handy, on a stand, and they asked for permission to consult it.
“Nothing like Carm here,” said Tom, after they had looked at the alphabetical list of streets. “We are stumped, sure enough.”
“Hello! I’ve got it – I think!” burst out Sam, so loudly that the attention of several persons in the store was attracted to him. “Here is a Varmolet street. Maybe Mrs. Stanhope only heard the name, and thought it was Carmolet. She wrote that down, and the end became rubbed off.”
“You may be right, Sam,” answered Dick. “Anyway, I guess your idea is worth looking into. I wonder where Varmolet street is?”
They made several inquiries, and at last learned that the street was a narrow and exceedingly crooked affair about half a mile away. They boarded another street car to visit the neighborhood.
“Look who is here!” ejaculated Tom, as he and his brothers sat down.
“Well, I never!” cried Sam.
“Jerry Koswell and Bart Larkspur!” murmured Dick.
It was indeed the two former students of Brill – the lads who had run away after causing the Rovers and some others so much trouble. Both were loudly dressed in summer outing flannels, and each carried an unlighted cigarette in his hand.
“Huh!” grunted Jerry Koswell, as he glared at the Rovers. “Where did you come from?”
“Perhaps we might ask the same question,” returned Dick, coldly.
This meeting was not at all to his taste, especially when he and his brothers wished to turn their whole attention to locating Mrs. Stanhope and her enemies.
“Have you been following us?” demanded Bart Larkspur.
“No, Larkspur, we have something of more importance to do,” answered Tom.
“Huh! you needn’t get gay, Rover!”
“I’ll get gay if I wish,” retorted Tom, sharply.
“You had better not follow us,” came in ugly tones from Jerry Koswell. “If you do you’ll get yourselves in hot water.”
“See here, Koswell, and you too, Larkspur,” said Dick, in a low but distinct tone. “We know all about what you did at Brill – and so do the authorities know it. Just at present we haven’t time to bother with you. But some day we may get after you.”
“Bah! you can’t scare me!” snorted Koswell. Yet his face showed that he was disturbed.
“Are you staying in Boston?” asked Sam, somewhat curiously.
“No, we are bound for a trip up the coast to – ”
“Shut up, Jerry, don’t tell ’em where we are going,” interrupted Larkspur. “It’s none of their business.”
“Some day we’ll get after you,” said Dick. “Now we’ve got to leave you,” he added, as the car conductor called out the name of Varmolet street, as Dick had requested him to do.
“You keep your distance!” shouted Koswell after the Rover boys.
“We are not afraid of you!” added Larkspur, and then the car went on again, and the two former students of Brill were lost to view.
“They are off on some kind of a trip,” said Sam. “Evidently they have quite some money.”
“More money than brains,” returned Tom, bluntly. “If their folks don’t take ’em in hand, they’ll both end up in prison some day.”
“Koswell mentioned a trip up the coast,” said Dick. “They must be going up to Portland and Casco Bay, or further.”
“I’d like to go to Casco Bay myself,” said Sam. “It’s a beautiful spot, with its islands. Tom Favor was telling me all about it. He spent three summers there.”
They had alighted at the corner of Varmolet street and now started to look for No. 234. They had to walk two blocks, past houses that were disreputable in the extreme.
“I don’t like the look of this neighborhood,” remarked Sam, as they hurried along. “I’d hate to visit it after dark.”
“Think of what Mrs. Stanhope must be suffering, if they brought her to such a spot,” returned Dick, and could not help shuddering.
Presently they reached No. 234, an old three-storied house, with a dingy front porch, and with solid wooden shutters, the majority of which were tightly closed. Not a soul was in sight around the place.
“Don’t ring any bell,” warned Sam. “If those rascals are here they may take the alarm and skip out.”
“There isn’t any bell to ring,” answered Tom, grimly. “There was once an old-fashioned knocker, but it has been broken off.”
“I think one of us ought to try to get around to the back,” said Dick. “If those rascals are here they may try to escape that way.”
“That is true,” returned Tom. “But let us make sure first that we have the right place. The folks living here may be all-right people, and they’d think it strange to see us spying around.”
Dick looked up and down the street and saw a girl eight or nine years old sitting on a porch some distance away, minding a baby.
“Will you tell me who lives in that house?” he asked, of the girl.
“Why, old Mr. Mason lives there,” was the answer.
“Mr. Mason?”
“Yes. He’s a very old man – ’most ninety years old, so they say.”
“Does he live there alone?”
“Yes – that is, all the rest of his family are dead. He has a housekeeper, Mrs. Sobber.”
“Mrs. Sobber!” exclaimed Dick.
“Yes, sir.”
“How old is she?”
“Oh, I don’t know – maybe forty or fifty. She’s been Mr. Mason’s housekeeper for three or four years. If you call on her, you want to look out. She don’t buy from agents.”
“Why?” asked Dick, innocently. He did not mind that the little girl took him to be an agent.
“Oh, she is too sharp and miserly, I guess. She used to get me to do her errands for her – but she never paid me even a cent for it.”
“Anybody else in the house?”
“Not regular. Once in a while a young man comes to see Mrs. Sobber. He ain’t her son, but he’s some kind of a relation. I think she’s his aunt, or great aunt.”
“Haven’t you seen anybody else coming lately?”
“I’ve been away lately – down to my grandfather’s farm. I came back last night. I wish I was back on the farm,” added the little girl, wistfully.
“Never mind, maybe you’ll get back some day,” said Dick, cheerily. “Here’s something for you,” and he dropped a silver dime in her lap, something that pleased her greatly.
“It’s the place!” cried the eldest Rover boy, on rejoining his brothers. “An old man lives here, and a Mrs. Sobber is his housekeeper. She is some relation to Tad, I feel sure. Maybe she is the one who advanced him some money.”
“And maybe she is the woman seen in the auto with Mrs. Stanhope,” added Tom, quickly.
“I shouldn’t be surprised.”
“If you are sure of all this, hadn’t we better notify the police?” came from Sam. “Remember, we have not only Tad Sobber against us, but also old Crabtree, and one or two unknown men. In a hand-to-hand fight we might get the worst of it.”
“That’s a good idea, Sam. Run up to the corner and see if you can find a policeman,” said Dick.
“I guess I know how to get to the rear of that building,” mused Tom. “I’ll go through that alleyway and jump the fences,” and he pointed to an alleyway several houses away.
“All right, Tom. You do that, and I’ll get in the front way somehow. I’m not going to wait another minute. They may have seen us already, and be getting out by some way of which we know nothing.”
Thus speaking, Dick mounted the porch and rapped loudly on the door with his bare knuckles. Tom ran off and disappeared down the alleyway he had pointed out.
Dick listened and then rapped again, this time louder than before. Then he heard a movement inside the house, but nobody came to answer his summons. He tried the door, to find it locked.
“Mrs. Sobber, who is that?” asked a trembling and high-pitched voice – the voice of the old man who owned the building.
“Oh, it’s only a peddler; don’t go to the door,” answered a woman.
“I am not a peddler!” cried Dick. “I have business in this house, and I want to come in.”
“You go away, or I’ll set the dog on you!” cried the woman, and now Dick heard her moving around at the back of the hall.
“Mrs. Sobber, I want you to open this door!” went on Dick, sharply. “If you don’t you’ll get yourself into serious trouble.”
“Want to be bit by the dog?”
“No, I don’t want to be bit by a dog,” answered Dick. He listened but heard nothing of such an animal. “I don’t believe you have a dog. Will you open, or shall I bring a policeman.”
“Mercy on us, a policeman!” gasped the woman. “No, no, don’t do that!”
“What does this mean?” demanded the old man. “Open that door, Mrs. Sobber, and let me see who is there. I don’t understand this. Day before yesterday you brought those strange folks, and now – ”
“Hush! hush!” interrupted the woman, in agitated tones. “Not another word, Mr. Mason. You are too old to understand. Leave it all to me. I will soon send that fellow outside about his business.”
“This is my house, and I want to know what is going on here!” shrilled the old man, and Dick heard him tottering across the floor. “I’ll open the door myself.”
“No! no! not yet!” answered the woman.
“Mr. Mason, I want to come in!” cried Dick loudly. “There has been a crime committed. If you don’t want to be a party to it, open the door.”
“A crime,” faltered the old man.
“Yes, a crime. Open the door at once!”
“No, no, you – er – you shall not!” stormed the woman, and Dick heard her shove the old man back.
“Mr. Mason, for the last time, will you let me in?” shouted Dick.
“Yes! yes!” answered the old man. “But Mrs. Sobber won’t let me open the door.”
“Then I’ll open it myself,” answered Dick, and hurled his weight against the barrier. It was old and dilapidated and gave way with ease; and a moment later Dick stepped into the hallway of the old house.