CHAPTER XVI THE LAME MAN
For a moment Dick stared at his chum uncomprehendingly. Then a light came over his face, and he said:
"By Jove, old man! I believe you're right."
"I'm sure of it," declared Paul.
Innis looked at the two in some bewilderment.
"I wish you'd kindly explain," he said. "I may be bright looking, but I guess I'm an awful dunce when it comes to making a stab at what you two are getting at. The road map is gone—I get as far as that—and the legal papers are safe. But how do you decide that a change has been made?"
"Easy," answered Paul, showing a bundle of the kind of paper known as "legal cap," with red lines down the side. "These were in the envelope containing the road map. The map and the legal documents were in the same pocket on the auto door. I remember, for I looked at the map to see how many miles we had made after we crossed that river."
"Maybe it dropped out on the road," suggested Innis. "Mind you!" he said, quickly, "I'm not saying this to be stubborn, but I want to make sure that we're not overlooking anything. For if it's true, what Paul says, it means that there's something wrong going on, and that we've got to be on our guard."
"I believe you," asserted Dick, "and I'm just as glad to have you raise all the objections you can. We want to be very sure of what we're about. Now it's pretty well settled that none of us have had the road map since it was put in the flap pocket last night. The envelope of legal papers looks just like the road map, and any one putting their hand in after dark, might get one in place of the other."
"And, lucky for you he got the wrong envelope," said Innis. "It's a good joke on whoever it is."
"Yes," agreed Dick, "and I'm beginning to have an idea of who it is."
"Who?" demanded his two chums.
"My Uncle Ezra, of course. Who else would have an object in preventing me from trying to save Mr. Wardell's fortune?"
"Ha! Ha!" laughed Innis. "I can just see his face when he looks in that envelope and sees nothing but a road map. That's a rich one; eh, Grit?" and he patted the bulldog, who wagged his stump of a tail energetically.
"Yes, it's a good joke," mused Dick; "but I don't believe Uncle Ezra will be the first one to appreciate it."
"What do you mean?" asked Paul.
"Why, that my uncle didn't personally take that envelope," went on Dick. "He must have hired some one to do it for him, just as he tried to get me off my yacht that time."
"And he got badly stung, too!" exclaimed Innis. "Just as he did this time."
"But we mustn't let that make us careless," went on Dick, "Uncle Ezra, if it was he, won't give up so easily. He'll have another try."
"But if he does get the papers so long before the time when you have to turn them over to the courts, Dick, can't you get other copies?" asked Paul.
The young millionaire shook his head.
"Mr. Wardell has left for South America by this time," he said. "It would be almost impossible to trace him now, in time to get him to execute new papers, in case these were lost or taken," and Dick looked at the valuable packet. "Of course I could cable him, if I knew on what ship he had sailed, but I don't.
"To find that out I'd have to go back home, and maybe even then his lawyer wouldn't know. You see Mr. Wardell was so ashamed of how easily he had been fooled that he wanted to get off by himself somewhere. Maybe he didn't leave his address. So I'd have quite a task tracing him.
"He depends on me to do this business for him, since I have undertaken it. He didn't do it himself for two reasons. He didn't have much idea that he could ever get his fortune back, I guess; and, for another reason, he didn't want to lose the only chance he might have to make another in this South American matter. If that is successful, I understand, Mr. Wardell will come in for a big share of the profits.
"Now then, since he has trusted me, and since so much depends on these papers, we've got to take good care of them. I'll hide them in a new place. I guess under the cushions of one of the bunks will do. They can't be gotten away in the night without one of us knowing it," and Dick proceeded to carry his plan into execution.
"But how do you suppose the map was taken last night?" asked Paul.
"It would only be guess work," replied Dick. "Probably some one in an auto sneaked up near us after we were sound asleep, reached in and took the first envelope his fingers met with. That's the most plausible theory, though I don't say it's right."
"But why an auto?" asked Paul.
"That's about the only way Uncle Ezra's agents could keep after us. They must have our route down pretty fine, and now I'm sorry I didn't keep quieter about it when we were laying it out. I talked freely before Uncle Ezra, and, now I recall it, he was at our house more often since we began getting ready for this trip, than ever before. He must have overheard what dad and I planned to do."
"It looks so," admitted Paul Drew. "But why does he make all this fuss about it? Why doesn't he wait until the time comes, and then file in court a legal paper that would offset the one you have for Mr. Wardell, Dick?"
"Because this is a peculiar case," explained his friend, who had gone over it in detail with Mr. Wardell's lawyer. "No papers can be filed before a certain date, and only within certain times. All Uncle Ezra could do in the meanwhile would amount to nothing, unless he could get these papers away from me. And that wouldn't be so important if Mr. Wardell hadn't left the country and gone to a place where I can't get at him in time to have him execute a new power of attorney. So we've got to take good care of these papers, boys."
"And we've got to get a new road map," said Paul.
They stopped at the next town they came to and got a fine map, showing the best roads to take. Then, in furtherance of his original plan, Dick headed for Buffalo, which he hoped to make before nightfall.
"Couldn't you change your route, and fool your Uncle Ezra, Dick?" asked Innis, after dinner that day.
"I could in some ways, but the cities we have planned to pass through are on the best route to San Francisco. Of course I could switch off on side roads here and there, but my idea is that if Uncle Ezra makes any other attempts they'll be made in or near the big cities. He knows every one where I'm going to touch."
"And this car is a regular landmark," complained Paul. "Everyone will remember it once they see it."
"Well, there's no use worrying until we have to," observed Dick. "We'll keep the papers as well hidden as we can, and a sharp watch out."
"It's a wonder Grit didn't give the alarm last night," said Innis.
"That's so," exclaimed Dick. "But the trouble with Grit is that he's too friendly with everyone except Uncle Ezra. He got that from the boys at school making such a fuss over him. He thinks everyone is his friend, and if a chap was only to speak gently to him Grit would wag his head off. That's probably what our night visitor did. Grit, you're no good!"
Grit barked happily, as though he had just been paid the greatest compliment in the world.
They drove the car hard that day, and had the satisfaction of arriving on the outskirts of Buffalo just as dusk was settling down. And then they had their first bit of bad luck.
From lack of oil, one of the bearings became heated and an inspection in a garage disclosed the fact that some new Babbitt, or anti-friction metal, would have to be put in.
"A two days' job," the repair man said.
"Punk!" exclaimed Dick. "Well, we'll have to lay over, that's all. Come on, fellows, we'll go to a hotel and take a run out to Niagara Falls to-morrow."
So, after all, the accident had its advantages, for they quite enjoyed the trip to the big cataract. The auto was repaired on time, and in the interim Dick kept the valuable papers in his own pocket.
"If we only knew what sort of a man, or men, to be on the watch against, it would be easier," remarked Paul, when they were ready to proceed again.
"That's just it," admitted Dick. "We can't tell who Uncle Ezra will send, nor when they'll appear. But I think, after once being fooled, they'll go a bit slow. We won't worry, anyhow."
They were on the main road out of Buffalo, and were counting on making Cleveland their next big stop. Their schedule called for leisurely traveling, for they were in no special hurry, desiring to enjoy the trip as much as possible.
"Here's a good chance to make speed," remarked Paul, as he sighted the long, straight road ahead of them, after they had turned out of a bad stretch.
"Yes, let her out a bit," suggested Dick, who had turned the wheel over to Paul.
They sped along at a rapid pace, keeping a watchful eye out for motorcycle speed-officers, when, as they rounded a curve, which Paul took at rather too great speed, they saw just ahead of them an auto drawn diagonally across the road.
"Look out!" cried Dick. "There isn't room to get past. What did he want to stop that way for?"
"Maybe he had a breakdown," suggested Innis.
"It looks so," admitted Paul, as he slowed up. As he did so a man walking with a perceptible limp came from the other side of the car, where he had evidently been tinkering with the mechanism, and held up his hand as a signal of distress.
"What's the matter?" asked Dick, as his big car came to a stop.
"Steering gear's broken," said the lame man, "and I can't push the car out of the road myself. It's a mean place to have an accident."
"Yes, especially as it makes the road impassable," said Paul. "Well, I guess we can get you out of the way all right. Is the break a bad one?"
"Yes, the steering knuckle has gone all to pieces. I tried to fix it, but I don't dare drive the car with that out of commission."
"I should say not," agreed Dick. "You'd be climbing a tree before you knew it," and he walked toward the disabled car, the lame man following closely, after a sharp glance at Dick's handsome machine.