are most kind,” said the visitor, nervously searching for the letter in question, and in her confusion lifting her veil. From her face Dave saw that she was about his own age. There was an anxious look in her eyes. She finally found the letter, and handed it to the young airman with the explanation:
“We went to Mr. King where he is sick at his home in New York City.”
“Yes, I know,” said Dave. “He wrote me only last week.”
“I am Edna Deane,” proceeded the young lady. “My father is himself something of an invalid and could not come with me to-day. We went to Mr. King to ask his help in a case where he only, or somebody like him, could be of any assistance.”
“You mean in the aviation way?” inquired Dave, getting interested.
“Yes, Mr. Dashaway,” replied the young girl. “I want my father to explain to you about it. He has written our address on the envelope – Hampton Flats. He wishes to have you make an appointment to meet him, if you will be so kind.”
“I certainly shall be glad to be of service to any friends of the gentleman who taught me all I know about sky sailing,” began Dave, and then he added very heartily: “Surely I will come, Miss Deane. To-morrow morning, if you wish. Shall we say at ten o’clock? I have some few things to attend to that will take up my time until then.”
“My father will be very glad,” murmured the girl, gratefully.
A glance at the letter from the veteran aviator, Mr. King, had at once influenced Dave. The old airman wrote briefly, but to the point. He stated, that were he in shape to do so, he would at once assist Mr. Deane. He asked his former assistant to act in his place, could he at all arrange to do so. Mr. King hinted that there was an opportunity for a great humane act. He said he was sure that when Dave knew its details, his generous heart would respond to an unusual appeal for help in a strangely pathetic case.
Meantime Hiram and Elmer had strolled to a distance. They passed Mr. Brackett, who was seeing to it that the hangar men safely housed his pet biplane for the night. Hiram looked curiously at his companion.
“Well,” he observed, “sort of mysterious, Elmer; eh?”
“You mean that young lady?”
“I do. Automobile – mysterious veiled visitor,” said Hiram with a smile.
“Maybe it’s another of those venturesome college girls wanting to make a flight for the name of it. Dave will tell us when he sees us. No nonsense about him. He’s too busy for romance.”
“That’s so. There she goes, Elmer,” announced Hiram.
The boys made out Dave, cap in hand, walking beside the automobile as it started up slowly, and conversing with its occupant. Then, curious and eager to learn the merits of the interesting episode, they proceeded towards the living tent, approaching it by a roundabout route so as not to look as if they were “snooping around,” as Hiram put it.
Just as they neared it, Elmer grasped the arm of his companion, bringing him to a halt with a startling: “S – st!”
“What is it?” demanded Hiram, staring ahead in the direction in which the glance of his companion was fixed.
“Look for yourself,” whispered back Elmer, pointing to a crouching figure just behind the tent. “See – a man, a lurker, a spy! Who do you suppose he is; and what is he up to?”
CHAPTER V
SOMETHING WRONG
The boys stood perfectly still. The crouching man had not heard them coming nor did he see them now. He half rested on one elbow and one knee, close up to the end of the tent. It looked as if he had been posted there for some time, as if peering into the tent through some break in the canvas and listening to what had been spoken inside.
Just now he was guardedly looking past the corner of the tent and following Dave and the automobile with his eyes. It was fast getting dark, but the glint of the headlight of the auto as it turned towards the entrance to the grounds swept over him, and Elmer gave a great start.
“Why,” he spoke suddenly, “Hiram, it’s that man – Vernon!”
“You don’t say so,” returned Hiram. “Are you sure of it?”
“Yes, I am,” declared Elmer, in a disturbed way. “He is after me again, and may make all kinds of new trouble for us.”
“He won’t,” asserted Hiram, with a quick snap of his lips, and the old farmer-boy fight and determination in his face. “Get ready to help me.”
“What are you going to do?” inquired Elmer, as his companion began to roll up his coat cuffs.
“I’m going to nail that fellow, good and sure,” pronounced Hiram. “Maybe your father would like to see him. Now then!”
Hiram made a spring. He landed on the shoulders of the crouching figure, Elmer close at his heels. The unsuspecting spy went flat, the nimble Hiram astride of him.
“What are you up to, and who are you?” demanded Hiram. “You needn’t tell,” he added swiftly, as his prisoner squirmed about and his face came into view. “You’re that mean rascal Vernon, and we’re going to know what you are plotting this time before we let you go. Grab him, Elmer.”
Each seized an arm of the squirming captive. Hiram arose to his feet without letting Vernon go, although the latter struggled fiercely. He managed to break the grasp of Elmer, but Hiram held on to him – would have held on to him if he had dragged him all over the field.
“What’s this?” cried Mr. Brackett, attracted to the spot by the noise of the struggle. Then he recognized Vernon. “Ah, it’s you is it?” he said, bending his brows at the prisoner. “I have something to say to you,” and he seized the man by his coat collar and assisted Hiram in dragging him around to the front of the tent.
“Oh, you have?” sneered Vernon, ceasing to struggle as he found his efforts in that direction vain. “Well, you want to say it quick and short.”
“What are you doing around here?” demanded the aeroplane manufacturer, sternly.
“What do you suppose?” retorted the schemer boldly, thinking brag and bluster only would serve him now. “I’m in the market with information, and you had better buy it.”
“You sit there,” ordered Mr. Brackett, forcing the miscreant upon a stool with the gesture of disgust. Then he motioned to Hiram and Elmer to guard the doorway and sat down facing the captive. “You have gone to the last length, my man, in persecuting my son. There is not a vestige of accusation against him that you can press legally.”
“Oh, I think I can make you a little uneasy,” boasted the conscienceless one.
“We shall see. It is only a few days since my lawyer reported to me the facts of an investigation into your career. I have a few questions to ask you. After that, I fancy you will be glad to get away from us and stay away in the future.”
“Oh, is that so?” said Vernon, coldly.
“My lawyer has placed certain documents and information in my hands,” continued Mr. Brackett. “One of them,” and he reached into his pocket and produced a photograph, “is a picture of a man who served a prison term. Do you recognize it?” and the speaker held up the photograph full in the lamp light.
Vernon changed color. He quaked and wriggled about, but he was silent, for it was his own portrait, in prison garb.
“How far the word of a convict will go against that of my son, whom you duped into signing notes he could not pay, and which I will never pay, for no consideration was involved, I do not know,” proceeded the aeroplane manufacturer. “I do know, however, that you dare not make another move. This document,” and he showed a folded paper, “describes you as the man who is wanted in Boston for forfeiting a bail bond. I have only to send word to the authorities there of your whereabouts to have you shut up for some time to come. Now go. If I so much as hear of your hanging around this vicinity,