"Another clue, and a hot one!" he cried. He whirled on Carl. "With this as a guide," he went on, "it's dollars to doughnuts we can trace your friend and get him away from that scoundrel, Brady!"
"Ach, vat a habbiness!" expanded Carl. "Readt it oudt to me, Harris, und be kevick ad it."
[CHAPTER VIII.]
JERROLD'S GRATITUDE.
"The letter," explained Harris, "was written by Brady, and was evidently entrusted to the men in the Hawk for delivery to some one else. It's full of pointers, and a slicker bit of evidence it would be hard to find. And to think how it dropped into the hands of Motor Matt! The whole affair sounds like a 'pipe.'"
"Tell me about that!" cried Jerrold, his shock of joy having passed and left him leisure for other things. "Who is this Motor Matt, and how did he happen to get hold of the blue prints?"
"Ve vill go ofer dot lader, Misder Jerrold," said Carl, impatiently. "Schust now, dough, I vant to hear vat der ledder say. Readt him oudt, Harris! I vas so uneasy ofer it I don'd vas aple to sit shdill."
"It's addressed to a man called Whipple," went on Harris, "and here's the way it runs:
"'Grove, Needham and Harper, with one of my improved jimmies, are going to make another try for those blue prints of Jerrold's. If they get them—and I think they can, for our plans are well laid—they'll carry the papers to Willoughby's swamp in the Hawk and leave them with you. We will quit our operations in South Chicago, clean out the balloon house (I have already sold the building for old lumber) and make our future headquarters in the swamp. It will be safer there. After we improve the Hawk according to Jerrold's plans, we will have a ship in which we can go anywhere, and with which we can do anything. All we need is a competent motorist—Harper's good enough for an amateur, but we need a professional. I'll try and bring one with me, when I come. Meanwhile, until I show up at the swamp, I want you to take good care of the blue prints.
"'H. B.'"