The Radio Boys with the Revenue Guards Part 8

Then the fight began.

Forty-five minutes later, as they strolled across the lawn of the Temple home, Della came running to join them from the tennis court where she was playing with a girl visitor.

"Where have you been?" she cried. "Some man has been calling for the three of you on the telephone. Two or three times in the last hour."

"Calling for us, Sis?" said Bob. "Who is he?"

"I don't know," she said. "He hasn't given his name. I believe he's calling from New York."

The boys looked at each other, puzzled. Who could it be?

"Oh, there's Mary again," said Della, pointing to a maid who at that moment emerged on the side veranda, overlooking the tennis court.

"Mister Robert, you're wanted on the telephone," came the maid's voice.

Bob hurried indoors, Jack at his heels. Frank hung behind.

"Well, Mr. Frank Merrick," said Della pertly. "Give an account of yourself, if you please. What were you boys doing in the city to-day?

You think you're grand, don't you, to go flying off in your airplane, on the very day I invite a girl down here to meet you?"

"Is she good looking, Della?" asked Frank, anxiously. "I won't meet her if she isn't good looking."

Della realized he was merely teasing, but she made a cruel thrust in return.

"You don't expect a good looking girl to be interested in you, do you?" she said.

Frank laughed, then reached out to seize her by the shoulders, but she eluded his grasp and went speeding off across the lawn with him in pursuit. They reached the tennis court, laughing and flushed, Della still in the lead. There Della beckoned the other girl to them, and managed introductions.

"This is that scatter-brained Frank Merrick, I told you about, Pete,"

she said. "Frank, this is my own particular pal at Miss Sefton's School, Marjorie Faulkner, better known as Pete. If you can beat her at tennis, you will have to play above your usual form."

"That so?" said Frank, entering into the spirit of badinage. "Give me a racquet, and I'll take you both on for a set. About 6-0 ought to be right, with me on the large end. Never saw a girl yet that could play pa.s.sable tennis."

"You scalawag," laughed Della. "When it was only my playing that enabled us to beat Bob and Jack last light. Well, here's your racquet, all waiting for you. Come on."

Della was a prophet. The slender, lithe Miss Faulkner, with her tip-tilted nose, freckles, tan and all, proved to be almost as good a player as Della herself. The result was that, although both games were hotly contested, Frank lost the first two of the set. He was about to start serving for the third game, when Bob and Jack, giving evidences of considerable excitement, approached from the house.

"Hey, Frank, come here," called Bob.

Frank stood undecided, but Della called to her brother:

"He's a very busy boy, Bob. You and Jack better come and help him."

Noting the presence of the other girl, Bob and Jack came forward, whereupon Della once more managed introductions. Bob, usually rather embarra.s.sed in the presence of girls, seemed at once at ease, and apparently forgot entirely his urgent business with Frank. He and Miss Faulkner fell into the gay chatter from which the others were excluded. Jack seized the opportunity to pull Frank aside.

"Look here," he said. "Something has happened already. That call was from one of the government prohibition enforcement agents up in New York. He said Inspector Condon had carried our information and surmises about our neighbors to him immediately after seeing us. He's coming down to-night to the house. Said he thought he could make the trip in about three hours, and would be here at 9 o'clock."

"Is that so?" said Frank. "Has Uncle George come home yet?"

"No, and he won't be home. It seems he telephoned earlier that he was running down to Philadelphia on business for a day or two. He always keeps a grip packed at his office, you know, for such emergencies."

Frank nodded, then looked thoughtful.

"He ought to be here, however," he said. "Well, anyway, there's your father."

Jack shook his head.

"No, Dad planned to stay in town to-night at his club."

"Well," said Frank. "We'll have to handle this alone. I suppose, however, this man just wants to talk with us at first hand and, perhaps, by staying until to-morrow, get an idea of what's down here for himself. He might even ask us to take him up in the plane over the Brownell place, to-morrow."

"What did Bob say to him?"

"Told him to come on down," said Jack. "What else could he say? We had told Inspector Condon that we placed ourselves at the government's service. I expect I had better put him up at our house overnight. Then we won't have to make any useless explanations to Mrs. Temple."

Frank nodded. Mrs. Temple, though kindly soul enough, was so involved in social and club duties that she had little time to give the boys.

As a matter of fact, Frank was not at all certain that she would be at home for dinner that night. As to putting up the stranger at Jack's home, that would be an easy matter. Jack's mother was dead, and a housekeeper managed the house and servants for himself and his father.

She was an amiable woman, and all Jack would have to do would be to prefer a request that a guest room be prepared, and it would be done.

"Hey, Frank," called Bob, interrupting their aside; "see how this strikes you? Miss Faulkner and I will play you and Della. We shall have time for a set before dressing for dinner."

"Righto," agreed Frank, taking up his racquet, while Jack sank to the turf bordering the court, to look on.

Bob really outplayed himself, and several times, when he approached Della, Frank whispered to her that her brother was smitten and trying to "show off" before the new girl. Della, well pleased, nodded agreement. Nevertheless, Frank and Della played their best, and the score stood at three-all when Jack hailed them from the sidelines with the information that, unless they preferred being late to dinner, it behooved them to quit playing and hasten indoors. Dinner at the Temples was served promptly at 7 o'clock, and never delayed.

Accordingly, the game was broken up.

"Come along, Jack," said Frank, linking an arm in that of his pal; "your father's not at home, and we won't let you dine in solitary splendor. You are coming to dinner with us."

CHAPTER VIII

A CONSULTATION

"This man Higginbotham is not the chief figure in the liquor smuggling ring," stated Captain Folsom emphatically.

Captain Folsom sat in the Temple library, with the boys grouped about him. The time was nearing ten o'clock. From the moment of his arrival, shortly after the hour of nine, he had been in conference with the boys, and they had explained to him in detail all that they had discovered or surmised about their neighbors of the old Brownell place.

An army officer with a distinguished record, who had lost his left arm in the Argonne, Captain Folsom upon recovery had been given a responsible post in the prohibition enforcement forces. His was a roving commission. He was not attached permanently to the New York office, but when violations of the law at the metropolis became so flagrant as to demand especial attention, he had been sent on from Washington to a.s.sume command of a special squad of agents. Lieutenant Summers, U. S. N., in command of the submarine division known as the "Dry Fleet," was operating in conjunction with him, he had told the boys.

Still a young man in his early thirties, he had a strong face, an athletic frame and a true grey eye, and had made a good impression on the boys.

"No," he repeated emphatically, "this man Higginbotham is not at the bottom of all this devilment. There is somebody behind it all who is keeping utterly in the dark, somebody who is manipulating all the various bands of smugglers around this part of the world. I believe that when we unearth him we shall receive the surprise of our lives, for undoubtedly, from certain evidences that have come to my attention so far, he will prove to be a man of prominence and importance in the business world."

"But why should such a man engage in liquor smuggling?" asked Jack, astonished.

Captain Folsom smiled.