Curlie Carson Listens In Part 25

Curlie thought a moment, then of a sudden the s.p.a.cious walls of the Ardmore mansion flashed into his mind. To go there as an officer of the law was one thing; to go as a guest was quite another.

"Why--why--" he drew back in confusion--"you'll have to excuse me but--but--"

"Oh! I know!" she exclaimed. "It's the house and everything. Tell you what," she seized him by the arm; "there's a little old-fashioned farmhouse down in one corner of our estate. It was there when we bought it and has been kept just the same ever since. Even the furniture, red plush chairs, kitchen stove and everything, are there. We'll go down there and have a regular frolic sometime, popcorn, mola.s.ses candy, checkers and everything. We've a wonderful cook who once lived on a farm. We'll take her along as a chaperon. Now will you come? Will you?"

she urged eagerly.

"Why--why--"

"If you don't," she held up a warning finger, "I'll come up and visit you in that secret wireless room of yours just as I once said I would."

"In that case," said Curlie, "I suppose I'll have to surrender. And," he added happily, "here we are, back to dear old North America, without any gold but with a lot to be thankful for."

The boat was b.u.mping against the dock. Giving his arm a squeeze the girl dashed away.

CHAPTER XXV

OFF ON ANOTHER WILD CHASE

A few nights later Curlie was back in the secret tower room. He was busy as ever running down trouble.

Joe Marion, entering the room noiselessly, dropped a letter into his hand. The letter bore the insignia of the Ardmore family in one corner.

"From Gladys Ardmore!" he told himself.

But he was mistaken. It was a typewritten letter signed in a bold business hand. It ran:

"It is with great pleasure that I inclose a check for the sum of the reward offered for the safe return of my son.

"(Signed) J. Anson Ardmore."

Curlie looked at the check, then uttered a low whistle.

"Pay to the order of C. Carson, $10,000.00," he whispered. Then out loud:

"Joe, what would a fellow do with ten thousand dollars?"

"Search me," Joe grinned back. "You got the fever or something?" he asked a second later.

Curlie showed him the check.

"Why," said Joe, "you might buy a car."

"Not much. The Humming Bird's quite good enough."

"Tell you what," he said after a moment's thought, "just get that cashed for me, will you? Then find out where our old skipper and the engineer live and send them a thousand apiece. After that pocket a thousand for yourself. Then--then--Oh, well, hire me a safety deposit box and buy me a lot of Liberty bonds. Might want 'em some day.

"And, say, that reminds me," he pointed to a square of vellum which hung on a stretcher in the corner. "Take that over to the big library on the North Side and tell 'em it's a present from us. It's that map Vincent Ardmore gave me. It's worth a thousand dollars, but such maps are not safe outside a library. Tell 'em to put it on ice," he laughed.

Scarcely had Joe departed than a keen-eyed, gray-haired man entered the tower room. He was Colonel Edward Marshall, Curlie's superior.

"Curlie," he wrinkled his brow, as he took a seat, "there's somebody raising hob with the radio service in Alaska."

Curlie nodded his head. "I thought there might be. Sends on 1200, doesn't he?" He was thinking of the hotel mystery and of the strange girl who had whispered to him so often out of the night.

"Yes, how did you know so much?"

"Part of my job."

"But you've been away."

"Radiophone whispers travel far."

"Well," said the colonel, settling down to business, "Alaska's in a bad way. This fellow doesn't confine himself to 1200 up there. He uses all sorts of wave lengths; seems to take pleasure in mussing up important government communications and even more in breaking in on Munson."

"Munson, the Arctic explorer."

"Yes. He's making a try for the Pole. Much depends upon his keeping in touch with the outside world and this crank or crook seems determined that he shall not."

"Why don't they catch him?"

"Well, you see," he wrinkled his brow again, "the boys up there are rather new at it. Don't understand the radio compa.s.s very well. The fellow moves about and all that, so it's difficult.

"I thought," he said slowly after a moment, "that you might like to tackle the case."

"Would I?" exclaimed Curlie, jumping to his feet. "Try me! Can I take Joe along?"

"As you like. Better get off pretty promptly; say day after to-morrow."

"Never fear. We'll be off on time."

The colonel bowed and left the room.

"Alaska! Alaska!" Curlie murmured after a time, "Alaska and the Yukon trail, for of course it will be that. It's too late for the boats. And that reminds me, I made a promise to Gladys Ardmore. Only one night left."

A short time after that he put in an out-of-town telephone call. It was a girlish voice that answered.

Late the next night Curlie made his way home along the well-remembered Forest Preserve road. He was riding in the Humming Bird. He had been to Gladys Ardmore's party for two and a chaperon down in the little farmhouse. The party had been a grand success and he was carrying away pleasant memories which would serve him well on the long, long Yukon trail and the weary and eventful miles which lay beyond its further terminal.

If you wish to learn of Curlie's adventures up there and of the secret of the whisperer, you must read the next volume, ent.i.tled "On the Yukon Trail."