CHAPTER II.
A REMARKABLE LETTER.
SEATED on the broad veranda of his home at Mootsport, in the soft summer moonlight, with his father, mother, sister Mildred and Mr. Hartley grouped around him, Harvey Hamilton told the story of his aerial trip to Chesterton in eastern Pennsylvania. All listened intently to the account of the rescue of little Grace Hastings from the Black Hand kidnappers, followed by the strange disappearance of Bohunkus Johnson in the company of the cranky Professor Morgan.
They had read of the former event in the newspapers, but their interest naturally centered upon Bunk, for whom each felt a warm regard. It is not worth while to set down all that was said, the conclusion of which was summed up by the merchant:
“The advice of your detective friend is good, Harvey, and you must follow it to the letter. I shall set the clipping bureaus to work as soon as I reach the city to-morrow morning. You will go by train to the Ten Eyck House in Albany and wait there for a telegram from me. I feel sure you will not have to wait long. The curious fact in this affair is that within the last two or three days I read an item about a wonderful inventor who traveled through the air without noise and could remain stationary as long as he wished.”
“Can you remember the particulars?” eagerly asked his son.
“I have been trying to do so but am unable. It was only one of the many references to flying machines with which the papers are filled. Whatever I might recall would be misleading, so it is better to let it go. Some of those wide-awake people will speedily unearth the facts, and I shall lose no time in sending them to you. I can telephone the agencies and have them begin at once.”
Thus it came about that the next evening found our young friend in the sitting-room of the Ten Eyck, the fashionable hotel in the capital of the State. The weather had turned chilly, with a drizzling mist which made the warmth within pleasant, even though it was the sultry season of the year. It is tedious to await the deferred coming of a friend or the happening of some expected event. Harvey had gaped and yawned and glanced through most of the metropolitan dailies in the reading-room, weakly hoping to run across reference to the subject that engrossed his mind, but he found nothing and decided that he must depend upon his father for the information needed.
He finished his evening meal, returned to the sitting-room and a few minutes later received the expected message. It was so full that it is better to summarize what it said:
Professor Milo Morgan was referred to as the coming Edison of aviation. He had perfected a number of amazing inventions, such as a noiseless monoplane that could be held motionless at will, and was capable of a speed of nearly a hundred miles an hour. The Professor was able to remain above the earth for twelve hours. As soon as he could triple this period he would start on an aerial voyage from Quebec to Liverpool. He was not quite ready to do so, but was certain that a few days or possibly a week or two would see the marvelous feat accomplished. He had sailed over several of the States and gone as far south as the Carolinas. His first intention was to cross the Rockies and visit the Pacific coast, but he had decided to travel in the opposite direction. The Professor’s workshop was somewhere in Essex County, northern New York, but he kept the exact location a profound secret because he did not wish to be annoyed by visitors and reporters.
“In Essex County are the Adirondacks, where brother Dick is camping out with his friends,” reflected Harvey; “it is the close season, so they daren’t disturb deer and other big game, but they are having plenty of fun. Now if I could locate the workshop of the Professor I should be able to do something for Bunk.”