The Boys of the Wireless Part 34

Tom started to cross the street in that direction.

Just ahead of him he casually noticed the hurrying figure of a bulky clumsy-limbed man carrying a big, old-fashioned carpet bag.

"Hi! Out of the way, there!" shouted a sharp warning voice, as a fire engine turned the corner suddenly, bearing directly down upon the awkward pedestrian.

The man got fl.u.s.tered and made a forward spring. The satchel he carried slipped from his grasp. He ran back to rescue it.

The ponderous rushing fire vehicle was fairly upon him. Tom instantly saw his peril. There was only one thing to do, and our hero did it promptly and effectively.

Making a forward dash at top speed, Tom fairly bunted into the stooping man. With all his force he struck him, sending him sliding head over heels into the gutter.

The feet of one of the horses attached to the fire engine just grazed Tom's heel, and, striking the carpet bag, lifted it ten feet in the air.

It landed at the curb broken open, its contents scattering far and wide.

Tom slid against the prostrate owner of the satchel, picked himself up, and turned to ascertain the possible injuries of the man whose life he had certainly saved.

There was, however, no gratified expression in the face of the man. In utter concern and disgust he stared at his scattered possessions, wildly threw up his hands in a frantic despairing gesture, and bolted out the echoing word:

"Donner! Donner!"

CHAPTER XXV-TOM ON THE TRAIL-CONCLUSION

"Donneer! Donner!"

At the mention of that startling word, Tom Barnes was instantly convinced that he had made a great discovery; in fact, he was satisfied that he had at last discovered one of the "spooks" of Station Z.

Donner had been a mystery. The owner of the satchel was quite mysterious in appearance. As Tom tried to help him to his feet, he noticed that the man wore a wig and enormous whiskers. They were false, for the fall had sent them quite awry.

"Donner," Tom had learned, was quite a common word in Germany. It was equivalent to our own "Thunder!" Tom, however, had never heard the word used outside of his wireless experience. To hear it used now by a suspicious individual in the very city where Harry Ashley was supposed to be, suggested strangely to Tom that the odd individual before him might be the erratic amateur operator, who had been sending out messages referring to a runaway boy, one Ernest Warren, with "sun, moon and stars tattooed on his left shoulder."

"Are you hurt, sir?" inquired Tom.

The man who had so narrowly escaped destruction seemed to be more frightened than grateful. He hurriedly adjusted his facial disguise and looked about him to see if he was especially observed. Then he shouted hoa.r.s.ely, with a despairing look at the scattered contents of the satchel:

"My baggage-quick, get it!"

Tom hurriedly collected the articles. He was amazed at their oddness and variety. There were one or two articles of clothing, and besides these, two old-fashioned horse pistols, an ancient dirk, four or five wigs, and as many false beards and moustaches. The odd collection suggested an actor with a limited stage outfit.

The minute Tom handed the satchel to the man with its contents restored, the latter made a wild dash down the street. Tom was bound that he would not lose sight of him, and followed fast on his heels.

He came upon the fugitive posted in a doorway and anxiously gazing beyond its shadows along the street. Tom paused near to him.

"Can I be of any use to you, sir?" he asked, eager to keep up an acquaintance he felt sure would lead to some definite results.

"Is anyone following me or watching me?" inquired the man breathlessly.

"Not at all," responded Tom rea.s.suringly. "Everybody is running to the fire."

"Ah, that is good, most good!" exclaimed the man in a relieved tone.

"The troubles-all at once. I am all turned around. You are a good honest boy," he added, scanning Tom critically. "You would not bring troubles to a poor old man?"

"Not I," declared Tom.

"You would help him?"

"I would be glad to," said Tom, delighted at getting more closely into the confidence of his companion.

"Then you shall earn a dollar. See, I am a stranger in the city. You must direct me-to that address."

The speaker fumbled in a pocket and produced a card which he handed to Tom. It bore an address, and below it the words: "Go to section 4. Wait for Brady."

"What luck!" breathed Tom ardently. "This man is certainly the mysterious operator, and he is going to see one of the men who kidnapped Harry Ashley."

It took about twenty minutes to reach the address indicated on the card.

Tom pointed out the restaurant to his companion, who gave him a dollar bill. Then with a brusque nod and a searching glance all about him, he entered the restaurant.

Tom crossed the street and reached a sheltering doorway. His eyes were fixed on the restaurant. What should he do next? He had almost decided to recross the street, enter the place and attempt to get nearer to the object of his interest, when a man came around the corner.

"It's Brady-it is the man I saw at Rockley Cove," declared Tom.

Brady wore a hat pulled well down over his face. His manner was hurried and furtive, like that of a person suspicious of every pa.s.ser-by. He bolted quickly into the restaurant.

"I must do something now-something worth while," breathed Tom hurriedly.

"There can be no doubt in the world that those two men have met here to do something about Harry. They may go away by some other exit. I'll do it."

These last words announced a definite decision on the part of Tom, as his eye fell upon a policeman in uniform standing at the nearest street corner. Tom approached him, full of his plan.

"Officer," he said politely, "do you ever arrest a person without a warrant?"

"I'd arrest me own brother on suspicions if he deserved it," announced the man in uniform bluntly.

"I am in trouble," said Tom rapidly, "and I wish you would help me."

"Spake out, me lad," directed the big bustling officer.

"A friend of mine, a boy, has been kidnapped. One of the men who carried him away is in that restaurant yonder. If you will only take him and the man with him to the police station, I am sure I can convince you that they both deserve arrest."

Tom briefly narrated the story of the kidnapping.

"Come on, me lad," ordered the policeman. "It's a case for the captain.

Sure I'll take them in the act. This'll get in the newspapers, and Officer Lahey's name along with it. Show me the rascals, me young friend, and I'll do the rest."

Tom entered the restaurant, the officer following him. At one side of the place there were half a dozen part.i.tioned-off compartments. As they neared the fourth one of the tier Tom heard the man he had brought there speak out: