CHAPTER V. Jimmie Finds a Spy.
"But I'm hungry!" protested Jimmie. "I'm nearly starved!"
"Come to think of it, I guess you have a right to feel a little gaunt and underfed," admitted Ned. "We ought to get down to Mr. Bosworth's office as quickly as we can, though. He needs us."
"If you'll let me inveigle a little sustenance under my surcingle," Jimmy replied, "I'll go with you as far as you like, but right now I'm so thin that I can't tell whether this pain is a backache or a stomach ache. I'm hungry, I tell you!"
"What do you want to eat, Jimmie?" queried Harry. "Say the word and I'll get it for you if I can."
"Not very much," The Wolf stated with twinkling eyes, "just a couple orders of ham and eggs, five or six cups of coffee, some potatoes, some cauliflower in cream, a little roast lamb, some turkey and cranberry sauce, a side order of macaroni, some stewed corn, some lettuce with dressing, an order of celery, some Parker House rolls and any other little odds and ends that may be lying around loose. I guess if I could get a little lunch like that I'd be good for a couple of hours or until dinner is ready. You know, I'm hungry!"
"Jimmie, you always were hungry!" declared Ned, joining in the general laugh which greeted Jimmie's modest demands. "If it were not for you and your appetite I suppose we'd forget to eat."
"Maybe so," the smaller lad admitted, "but if that's the case there's something wrong with you. You better go see a doctor."
"What doctor would you suggest that we visit?"
"Go to see my old-time favorite, Dr. Cook!" shouted Jimmie. "Now I'm off for a restaurant. Who's with me?"
A canvass of the group showed that all felt the need of lunch and it was determined to visit a restaurant on the way to Mr. Bosworth's office. In a short time the boys were seated in a nearby establishment supplying their needs. Darkness had now fallen.
"What did Mr. Bosworth say he wanted, Ned?" asked Harry while the lads accompanied by Mr. Nobles were waiting for their orders to be filled. "Is it something more referring to the Panama plans?"
"Hush!" warned Ned. "Not so loud in here, please."
"Excuse me, Ned, I forgot this was a public place."
"Yes," went on Ned, nodding his acknowledgment to Harry. "He said that some new developments have been discovered and he wants us to make haste. He asked how soon we can be ready to go."
"What did you tell him? Right away, I hope."
"I think you heard me say we'd do the best possible," replied Ned. "Much depends on the delivery of that engine, Harry, for I'm convinced from what I've read of the European conflict and from what I have been told of police regulations on the Continent that we will probably have to make some quick jumps in order to catch the fellow. It does not seem probable that we can apprehend the man before he gets across the Atlantic," the boy finished with a sigh.
"That engine will be delivered tomorrow morning!" announced Harry. "When our Superintendent promises delivery on anything you may be sure that it will be there at the appointed time."
"Good!" was Ned's satisfied comment. "There's a lot of work ahead of us if my understanding of the matter is at all correct, and we ought to feel extremely thankful that a good start is assured."
"What's that about a bad beginning making a good ending?" queried Jimmie, rousing himself from a study of the menu.
"You mean to say 'There's many a slip 'twixt the cup and the saucer,'" purposely misquoted Jack, grinning at the boy.
"There's many an egg has quit playing the shell game, too!" retorted Jimmie pleasantly. "Be quiet, boys, here comes the waiter!" he added, unfolding his napkin. "I'm glad to see I have one friend!"
"Speaking of slips," remarked Mr. Nobles, "just take a look at the hungry face of that fellow looking in at the window. He's evidently missed connections with a good square meal for several days!"
"I've been looking at him for this long time," declared the red-headed Wolf. "You thought I was studying this menu to order some more steaks and things, but I've been looking at him. He's been there ever since we sat down and he's been eyeing us all the while!"
"What does he look like?" asked Ned, who sat with his back toward the window. "I don't want to turn unless it's necessary."
"He's a slight built, rather dark, smooth shaven fellow with a cast in his left eye and a scar at the corner of the right one. Looks like a tough character wearing good clothes as if unaccustomed to them. I should say he's a 'Panhandler' by profession," replied Jimmie.
"Maybe he thinks he's going to beg a meal from us as we go out of this place," suggested Harry. "Lots of them try that."
"Forget him, here are the steaks!" cried Jimmie.
During the progress of the meal conversation turned upon ordinary subjects remote from the project in hand. None of the boys cared to discuss the matter in a public place and by mutual consent the talk drifted to other topics. Shortly they prepared to proceed to Mr. Bosworth's office, where the lawyer was awaiting their coming.
As the boys left the restaurant they looked about for the man who had been seen at the window, but he was nowhere in sight.
Not long after this they were seated in Mr. Bosworth's office discussing with that gentleman the details of their proposed journey. It appeared that their experience on other trips would enable them to reduce their baggage and other impedimenta to a minimum.
"Now, boys," proceeded Mr. Bosworth after reviewing the points already known, "we are informed by the Chief that the man you are after left Colon by means of a launch. It appears that he must have trans-shipped to a United Fruit Company's steamer somewhere in the Gulf of Mexico, for his hat and coat were discovered in the abandoned launch.
"At first it was believed he had accidentally fallen overboard. Later a drunken deckhand from the fruit steamer, after the manner of sailors, was enjoying himself in Mobile. He confided to one of the Secret Service agents there, who (in the guise of a dock laborer) was on another mission, that his vessel had picked up a man from a launch east of Colon. This party had later been transferred while in the Gulf, he said, to a vessel bound for some European port with a cargo of cotton from Galveston."
"Then he's well on his way by this time!" exclaimed Ned with a note of regret. "We'll have to hurry to catch him!"
"Yes," returned Mr. Bosworth, "but remember that the cotton steamer is a tramp vessel. Probably her bottom is covered with barnacles and she won't be able to make her usual speed, which at best is slow. You ought to beat him across by taking one of the faster vessels from this port. I've been looking up the sailings somewhat."
"If the trial of the new engine proves to be half what we expect, as we have every reason to believe," Ned remarked, "we ought to be able to have the Grey Eagle dismantled and ready for shipment in two days. That being the case, we could then sail next——"
Loud voices from the outer office attracted the attention of the group. Jimmie's angry tones were heard.
"What do you want here?" the lads heard him ask someone.
A muffled reply from the other was not intelligible.
"You clear out of this or you'll wish you had!" retorted Jimmie. "I think you're a fake, that's what I think!"
"What's the matter, Jimmie?" called Ned, rising.
With flashing eyes the younger lad entered the room. He had left without attracting the attention of the others.
"Our friend from the restaurant window was out in the corridor with a wiping cloth," replied Jimmie. "My dream book told me that someone was doing a little eavesdropping and I slipped from this room into the outer one. I stood by the door listening until I heard someone there. It was the same fellow and he had his ear glued to the crack. When I opened the door he made a bluff at wiping off the marble wainscoting, but he wasn't quick enough! I think he's a spy!"
Quick glances of apprehension were exchanged by the members of the little group. They were recalling the numerous incidents of the day, not forgetting the attempt to burn their hangar.
"What do you think of that?" gasped Harry in amazement.
"I know what I think!" snapped Jimmie. "I think we're up against an organized gang! Just one fellow didn't go and steal those plans on an independent footing. Somehow there's either a leak in the Service or else the gang is posted to watch us to prevent our taking a hand in the matter. They're not overlooking many bets!"
"Jimmie, I think you're more than half right!" stated Ned. "But I wish you'd omit the slang just a little more. What's to be done?"
"About the slang?" queried Jimmie.
"No, about the opposition to our trip which seems to have developed," replied Ned. "I'm leaving the slang for you to conquer!"
"What do you suggest, Mr. Bosworth?" asked Harry.
"If I remember correctly, you Boy Scouts have a watchword," was the lawyer's reply. "What is it?"
"Our motto is 'Be Prepared,'" answered Harry.
"And I further suggest that you boys make haste."
"Thank you," acknowledged the lad. "Now what do you say, boys, are we ready to return? We ought to get a little sleep."
"Look around and see that all fire is out," warned Jimmie.
"Thank you, Jimmie!" Mr. Bosworth exclaimed. "That remark reminds me that I nearly overlooked giving you these pictures of the alleged thief. They arrived only today. The chap has used so many names that his last one is not worth remembering. This is his face!"
"With that sharp nose and chopped-off chin, he looks like a rat!" commented Jimmie as the boys inspected the pictures of the alleged thief.
All the boys at once observed the striking resemblance.
Good-byes were soon said and the boys departed. Long after their departure Mr. Bosworth sat with Mr. Nobles discussing the venture, the issues at stake and their confidence in the lads.
Little time was lost by the four in making their way to the hangar, where they found the watchman had repaired the damaged fence and had put everything to rights so far as possible. The Grey Eagle rested lightly in its position under the shelter, as if anxious for flight.
Early the following morning the lads were astir. Breakfast was dispatched quickly and all took up the tasks of the previous day which had been interrupted by the events already related.
Soon a motor truck approached the enclosure, its driver sounding his Klaxon for attention. Admitted by the watchman he drove to a position in front of the hangar, adjusted a pair of skids and helped unload his burden. Ned signed a receipt and the driver then made haste to depart. Just as the truck was leaving the grounds Jimmie appeared.
"Upon my honor as an expert," he cried, "that driver is our hungry spy of last night! How does it come he's out here?"
"That's strange!" mused Harry. "Where did the factory get him?"
"I don't know," admitted Jimmie, "but he's there all right!"
"The fellow's gone now," Harry exclaimed impatiently. "Let's get a little gasoline and turn the engine over. I'm getting anxious."
"Wait a bit," interrupted Ned. "Wouldn't it be a good idea to inspect the machine first? Maybe they forgot to put in the piston rings or something. Hurry-up jobs are sometimes neglected a little."
"Not in our shop!" boasted Harry. "This engine's all right!"
"Better look it over, anyway, Harry," suggested Jimmie. "Here's a wrench. It's easy to remove the cylinder heads and crank case cover."
Shortly a startled cry from Harry drew the boys to his side.
"Look, fellows," he shouted. "Look what's in here!"
"Candles!" scorned Jimmie. "Two candles in the crank case!"
"Those are not candles!" gasped Jack. "Go easy there!"