Chapter III: Mr. Billy Worth Does Some Thinking

"Hello! What's all the feverish bustle about? Good news, I hope!"

This from Mr. Wagg as Billy and Paul, very warm and very red, hustled into that gentleman's hotel and suddenly stopped, as if they had at that moment forgotten what they came for.

"No,--not exactly," said Billy. "Fact is, we have no news at all and it just makes us feel that we've got to get busy; and that's what we've been doing--hustling up here as hard as ever we could."

"What for? What scent are you on now?" asked the landlord, peering over his glasses as he leaned upon the register counter. There was a trace of amusement in his voice.

"That's just it," put in Paul. "We don't know just what scent we _are_ on but, by thunder! we've _got_ to get some news of that car!"

"Well, I suppose that nothing succeeds like determination," observed Mr. Wagg kindly. "Still, there's a lot o' misdirected energy in the world." With a sigh he sat down and resumed the afternoon nap which the swift entrance of the boys had broken in upon.

A large part of Griffin seemed to be occupied quite as was Landlord Wagg. How very quiet the little town was this tranquil June afternoon!

"Ginger! I'd just like to take a nap myself; but we've got to keep busy," mused Billy. The two were seated in big armchairs of the hotel office.

"Our basket, Willie Creek's lamp and that old raincoat are in our room. Mr. Hipp brought them and the porter carried them up. Told me so just after dinner," suggested Paul. "We might tote Willie's lamp over to the garage."

Straightway up the stairs dashed the two boys. Yes, there at the foot of the bed the articles in question were deposited. Again the boys examined the lunch hamper inside and out. Again they searched pockets, lining, every shred of the muddy, dirty, wrinkled coat.

How freshly the garment, splashed with the rain and the thick pools of the road, brought back to Billy's mind the dismal afternoon when first they ventured upon the lonely South Fork! Again, in mental vision, he saw the Torpedo come over the hill, saw the impossibility of passing the machine if it did not quickly turn out! Then he recalled--how vividly!--the dreadful scene, the Big Six ditched, the rain, the heavy, mist-laden air, the gloom, of approaching darkness.

And in the same train of thought, as he went forward, he seemed to see the man Hipp and Earnest had told of seeing, marching stolidly along the wet road, carrying the basket stolen from the Six, wearing this very raincoat and on his head a low, soft cap, his top boots or leggins splashed with mud, the rain pelting him till he stumbled as he walked. How easily the lad's imagination drew for him the picture Alfred Earnest and his friend Hipp described! Then suddenly----

"For the love of cats, Paul Jones, I am one large punkin head! And so are _you!_ And so are _all_ of us!"

Quite naturally young Mr. Jones looked up suddenly, startled not a little by the extraordinary accusation.

"Wh----"

Paul's intended response was violently interrupted. Knocking his own head with one pair of knuckles, Billy brought those of his other hand down forcibly on his friend's tawny hair, at the same time and not once, but repeatedly.

Not until Jones escaped beyond reach, which he did by tumbling ungracefully backward over a chair, as he retreated from the mysterious attack, did Worth explain himself.

"That man--the drunken fellow we saw Fobes arrest on Saturday night--you remember? He's the fellow who wore this raincoat, stole our basket and--who knows?--maybe the car! Plain as daylight! Why didn't we see it before? The cap, the leather leggins all caked with mud--I couldn't see it all plainer if he stood in this very room!"

For a few seconds Paul was lost in a confusion of thoughts, but he extricated himself at last, saying:

"Thunder! I do remember that that fellow Fobes got wore leggins--yes, and the cap! But--why, a lot of people wear 'em for fishing trips and----"

"Yes, and chauffeurs wear 'em," put in Billy, heatedly. "I say, come on! We'll have a look and we'll get something out of this, you bet!"

Whether Paul would or would not wager, however, he did not say. What he did reply was: "Honest, Bill, I hope there's something to it, but--anyhow, let's not be too sure!"

Chief Fobes, dozing the early afternoon away in his dingy office, sleepily called to the boys, "Come in!"

They entered. Needless to say, also, the haste and earnestness in Billy's manner fully awakened the officer of the law rather more abruptly than often happened.

"We want to find out about a fellow you arrested Saturday evening. Wore a cap and high boots or leggins," spoke young Mr. Worth in a single breath.

"Soaked for ten days in the cooler," said Mr. Fobes, indifferently. By which it will be understood that the village magistrate had imposed upon the man a fine of ten days in jail.

"Well, who is he? Can we see him?" Worth continued rapidly.

"He's just a bum, I guess. I don't know him and--well, you can ask Willie Creek whether I know everybody around here or whether I don't. He was hanging around all Saturday afternoon and drinking. By night I had to pinch him."

With a show of real interest Chief Fobes now heard the story Billy told and the belief that the man in the lockup could throw light on the disappearance of the Big Six. Slowly, very slowly, nevertheless, the officer rose, yawned and led the way to the corridor below, so conducting the boys to a group of steel cells in a basement at the rear of the building. The man they sought was lying on an iron bunk. He stepped forward when Mr. Fobes called sharply, "Here, you! Step up!" quite as if the unfortunate were a refractory horse.

"Might I ask you a question?" began Billy. He and Paul were both keeping pretty close to Mr. Fobes as the prisoner, still in the mud-stained boots and garments, approached the bars.

"I'll do the talkin'," put in the officer bluntly. Then to the man who peered out from the gloomy cell, "What was you doing on the South Fork road last--last Friday?"

"I don't know anything about any South Fork road. What ye givin' us? I come in here from Rochester, hittin' the road an' lookin' fer a job in the country, an' I told the judge the same thing, didn't I?"

"It don't go, Billy. You can't throw any bluff here," said Fobes with an air of familiarity, but shaking his head coldly, too. "You was seen on the South Fork road an' there's an automobile man lookin' for you. Guess he wants to give you a raincoat you lost somewhere."

This, of course, was just the kind of talk that Mr. Fobes himself had termed a "bluff" and, in the vernacular, nothing else. Whether the prisoner thought so or otherwise, for a few seconds he made no reply. Then as if feeling his way carefully, he said: "Somebody lookin' for me, eh? Tell 'im where I am. Or mebbe he knows it."

"It ain't no go, I tell you," said Fobes sharply. "There's a little matter of a patent dinner basket on you straight. Swipin' grub from boys, too! Ain't you ashamed of yourself? You don't happen to remember what you left in the raincoat, do ye?"

Billy and Paul were far from approving this kind of questioning. Yet they could see the object of Chief Fobes, which was to frighten and confuse the prisoner by making him believe a great deal was known about him, thereby leading him into admissions that would pave the way toward gaining a complete confession from him.

"I don't know nothin' about a coat, boss; but who's lookin' fer me?" called the one behind the bars as the officer and the boys started to move away.

"You'll find that out quick enough," said Fobes with a harsh laugh. But he did not pause and led the way to his own office again.

"Now," said he, "you have seen how we go about it. We've set the yeast to workin'. He'll be more ready to let out a little by the time I take his supper in to him."

Chief Fobes was evidently much pleased with himself but he was not prepared for the rather unusual incident that followed.

"Where's the kid that said might he ask me a question?" inquired the prisoner when the officer visited his cell again. "I want to see 'im if I can, boss!"

Billy was called only after Mr. Fobes had failed to extract from the man any information whatever. Cautioning the lad to tell the prisoner little or nothing, the policeman, who was also turnkey, it will have been noticed, took Worth into the lockup and left him.

"What was yer question, bub! Mebbe I might answer it," said the fellow. He held a bar of the cell in each hand and leaned forward on his elbows. His face, pressed between the steel rods, had a really hideous look.

"Where's the Big Six automobile that dinner basket came from? Now you tell me that and you'll make a friend. You seem to need one all right."

Billy was surprised by his own boldness in this speech. The fact was the man's manner had quite startled him.

The prisoner laughed in a coarse guffaw. Abruptly checking himself, he said in a whisper: "You get me out o' here. Swipe the keys--any old way! Pass me in a saw--just so's I get out to-night, an' I'll show you where you can find that automobile, good as ever she was. And--" the fellow swore venomously and wickedly--"you blab this an' I'll get ye fer it if I go to the chair!"

"Might as well be reasonable," spoke the boy, frightened by the very nature of the proposal, but scarcely showing it. "I'll help you get out if it means just paying a fine for you, if you can do all you say, but----"

"Do all I _say?_ Don't you think I couldn't?"

Billy hardly knew what to say. For a few seconds he made no answer.

"Aw, I was just a kiddin' ye," the fellow said with a coarse laugh again, as if he had quite suddenly changed his mind.

"Oh! All right!" the boy replied indifferently. And then, moved by a sudden impulse, whose origin he could never have explained, he stepped close to the cell, "Mr. Smith, of Buffalo, has been staying at our hotel. Maybe you'd like to see _him_," he said in a low tone. "He was looking for someone and I shouldn't be surprised from what I saw of him that you are the man."

In general it was a chance shot--a random word without particular aim, such as Fobes had used in his questioning, but Billy fully believed that the remark struck home.

"Say, kid, say, on the level is he the party His Nibbs was talkin' about? Look 'e here, bub, you play fair with the old man that's down an' out. You won't lose nothin' by it. They's none of 'em plays fair any more or I wouldn't be here. You slip them very words to Smith fer me, and don't ye breathe it to His Nibbs."

"Where's our machine?" persisted Worth soberly.

Again a vile oath came from the dirty lips pressed between the bars. The prisoner's pleading manner had changed to anger. "Jest like 'em all, ain't ye?" he said with a vicious sneer in his tone. Then he walked away. Nothing Billy could say served to draw another word from him and that young gentleman could only take his leave. This he did with the words: "We are over at the American hotel. You may want to send for us when you get a little sense."

"How was I to know what to say to him? Wish Phil had been there," said Billy earnestly, telling Paul all about the interview later.

"Gee whizz! We're getting warm, though, I'll bet!" cried Jones with enthusiasm.

"If it wasn't just guesswork that Pickem or Smith--whatever his real name is--knows something about this man in the lockup, who in turn knows something about our car! Pickem certainly does know something about the Torpedo, but he's gone. Even if he might help us, it's too late."

The boys spent the evening trying to realize, with Willie Creek's help, some value from the day's developments. They were late getting to bed and still sleeping soundly when Phil and Dave, the following morning, were well on the road to Pittsfield. And now to return to the latter pair of eager searchers, it may be briefly stated that their day's work was without results. Except that they had made the theft of the Big Six the more widely known, they felt their efforts in Pittsfield to have been a total failure. At nine o'clock on Tuesday night they were on a Pullman, their tickets reading "Syracuse."

There is in the city named, as everyone knows, an automobile club of more than usual excellence. Whether it be in helping a pair of boys toward the recovery of a lost car, or the more general work of erecting road signs, mapping off the best detours around road construction work and informing the public of the same, nothing is too small or too large a task to receive intelligent attention. And it was a fortunate chance, therefore, that Phil and Dave chose Syracuse to be the scene of their next endeavors.

Very early Wednesday morning the two boys began their inquiries--began a day of work and developments, following rapidly one upon another, and more startling at their close than the strangest dreams may often be.