Bart Stirling's Road to Success Part 30

"Charge me with the balance," said Bart quickly to his a.s.sistant, in a low tone.

"You've no right!" raved Lem Wacker loudly, shaking his fist at Bart, and in a pa.s.sion of uncontrollable rage. "You'll suffer for this! I protest against this sale--I demand that you do not deliver that package, you young sn.o.b! you--"

Lem Wacker was getting abusive. He pranced about like a mad bull.

A heavy hand dropped suddenly on his collar, McCarthy, the watchman, gave him a shove towards the door.

"No talk of that kind allowed here," he remarked grimly. "Get out, or I'll fire you out!"

As Wacker disappeared through the doorway, Bart leaned from the platform.

"Here is your package, Mr. Baker," he said. "What is the trouble--are you ill?"

Baker struggled to his feet. He was in a pitiable state of agitation and nervousness.

"No! no!" he panted, "you keep the package--for a time. Till--till I explain. I've got it! I've got it at last!" he quavered in an exultant tone. "Air--I'm choking! I--I'll be back soon--"

He rushed to the door overcome, like a man on the verge of a fit.

Bart started to follow him. Just then, however, one of the recent bidders came up to ask some question about a purchase which required that Bart consult the record book.

When he had disposed of the matter, Bart hurried to the outside. Baker was nowhere in sight.

CHAPTER XXV

A NIGHT MESSAGE

The crowd had melted away, Bob Haven was totally engrossed with the magnificent prize he had drawn, and Darry was busily engaged in closing up the records of the sale.

Bart was thoroughly mystified at the strange conduct of Baker, and very much disappointed at not finding him, now that he sought the mysterious man.

McCarthy had gone home, and Lem Wacker was not in evidence. Some boys were guarding a pile of stuff that had been purchased and thrown aside.

Bart set at work cleaning up the package coverings that littered the place inside and outside.

Things were back to normal when the afternoon express came in. It was nearly two hours late, and closing time.

There was the usual grist of store packages, which Darry attended to, and several special envelopes. These Bart placed in the safe along with the proceeds of the day derived from the sale, barely glancing over the duplicate receipt he had signed for the messenger.

He noticed that two of the specials were for the local bank, and the third for the big pickle factory of Martin & Company, at the edge of the town.

"Both closed up by this time," ruminated Bart. "We can't deliver to-night. Anything very urgent among that stuff, Darry?"

"Nothing," replied his young a.s.sistant.

"You can go home, then," directed Bart. "Pretty tired, eh? A big day's work, this."

"Say, Bart," spoke up Darry, as he dallied at the door, "who was the fellow that bought that last package?"

"A friend of mine, Darry," answered Bart seriously. "And I am worried about him. He is the man I told you about who helped me save my father the night of the fire."

"He acted very queerly. And Lem Wacker, too," added Darry thoughtfully.

"Is something new up, Bart? The way Wacker carried on, he seemed to have some idea in his head."

"He had the idea he could bulldoze me," said Bart bluntly, "and found he couldn't. What bothers me is, why were both of them so anxious to get this package?"

Bart took it out of his pocket as he spoke, nodded good night to Darry, and sat down on a bench, turning the parcel over and over in his hand.

"A.A. Adams," he read from the tag, "a queer name, and no one answering to it here in Pleasantville. I wonder why Baker was so excited when he heard that name? I wonder why Lem Wacker bid it up? Is he aware of the mystery surrounding Baker? Has this package got something to do with it?

Wacker looked as though he had struck a prosperous streak, and bragged recklessly about the lot of money he could get. I must find Baker. He was in no condition, mentally or physically, to wander about at random."

The package in question, Bart decided, held papers. It had been given him in trust, and he could not open it without Baker's permission. He replaced it in his pocket and went forth.

Bart visited all of Baker's old familiar haunts in the freight yards, but found no trace of him. Then he called at the Sharp Corner. Its proprietor claimed that Lem Wacker had not been there since noon.

Bart spoke to two of the yards night watchmen. He described Baker, and requested them to speak to him if they ran across him, and to tell him that Bart Stirling was very anxious to see him up at his house.

Affairs at the little express office had settled down to routine when, one morning, Darry Haven dropped into the place.

He found Bart engrossed in reading a letter very carefully. Its envelope lay on the desk. Glancing at it casually, Darry saw that it was from express headquarters.

"Anything wrong?" he inquired, as Bart folded up the letter and placed it in his pocket.

"Not with me, anyway," replied Bart with a smile. "There is something wrong at Cardysville, a hundred miles or so down the main line," he went on.

"And how does that interest you, Bart?"

"Why, it seems I have got to go down there on some business for the Company."

"To-day?"

"The sooner the better, that letter says. It is from the inspector. It is quite flattering to me, for he starts out with complimenting the excellent business system this office has always sustained."

"H'm!" chuckled Darry--"any mention of your valued extra help?"

"No, but that may come along, for you have got to represent me here again to-day, and possibly to-morrow."

"Is that so?" said Darry. "Well, I guess I can arrange."

"You see," explained Bart, "the letter is a sort of confidential one.

Reading between the lines, I a.s.sume that a certain Peter Pope, now express agent at Cardysville, and evidently recently appointed, is a relative of one of the officials of the company. Anyway, he has been running--or not running--things for a week. The inspector writes that the man has very little to do, for it is a small station, but that very little he appears to do very badly."

"How, Bart?"

"His reports and returns are all mixed up. He doesn't have the least idea of how to run things intelligently. The inspector asks me to go and see him, take some of our blanks, open a set of books for him, and try and install a system that will bring things around clearer."