CHAPTER XIX
MISSING
Frank was a good deal upset. In the light of the cistern episode and theknowledge that Markham seemed afraid to meet certain people, he believedthat the advent of his present visitor boded no good for his friend andhelper.
As Dale Wacker showed the wire puzzle, stating that he knew its inventor,Frank felt that he was in the presence of a mystery.
“Let me look at that, will you?” he said.
“Sure,” grinned Wacker. “Why not? Take a good look, too. Seems familiar?Quite the right thing, eh?”
“What do you mean?” demanded Frank.
“Why, just this,” retorted Wacker: “How do you come to be selling anarticle that no one has a right to sell except my friend who made it? Ihappen to know he invented that puzzle. I was with him when he did.”
“When was that?” asked Frank.
“Oh, about six months ago.”
“And where?”
“Now you’re asking questions, hey?” said Wacker, with a cunning air.“You tell me first: do you know the fellow who made that puzzle?”
“What’s his name?” asked Frank.
“Dick Welmore.”
“Never heard of him.”
“Aha!” cried Dale Wacker triumphantly, “then I’ve got you. I say, youngfellow, you’re violating the law, you are. See here, I’m hard up. Iknow where Dick Welmore is snug and tight. If you don’t make it worthmy while, I’ll go to him and have you prosecuted for stealing hisinvention.”
“Get out of here,” cried Frank, with flashing eyes.
“Hold on, now. Say, give me a job, and I’ll keep mum. Say, I can write agood hand. Once I took stock, see--”
“Yes, I reckon you’ve taken stock to your cost, if what I hear is true.March out, and it won’t be healthy for you to come around here again.”
“I can make you trouble.”
“Try it.”
Frank gave Wacker a decided push through the open doorway. Wacker wasmuttering under his breath all kinds of dire threats.
At exactly that moment Frank looked along the walk to the street at theecho of a cherry whistle. It was instantly checked. Markham, trippingtowards the office, halted with a shock. Like a flash he turned at asight of Wacker. He disappeared so quickly that Frank wondered if Wackergot a clear look at him.
The latter, with a malignant growl at Frank, went away without anotherword. In some perplexity Frank sat down at his desk, thinking hard andfast.
“I just couldn’t truckle with that fellow,” he said. “Dick Welmore, eh?Can that be Markham’s real name? Evidently, though, this Wacker doesn’tknow Markham is here. He thinks he is somewhere else, ‘snug and tight.’Oh, bother! there’s only one right course to take in such a case, andI’ll follow it.”
Frank decided that at quitting time he would lock himself and Markhaminto the office, and ask for an explanation of his fear and dread ofmeeting Dale Wacker.
“It won’t be to Markham’s discredit, I’ll guarantee,” reflected Frank.“He’s square, if there ever was a square boy. Here he is now.”
Markham appeared, breathing hard and looking excited. He tried, however,to appear calm. His face was quite pale. Frank saw that he was under anintense nervous strain.
“Oh, Markham,” said Frank, not indicating that he noticed his friend’sperturbation, “I want you to take that money to Darry Haven.”
“All right,” answered Markham, glancing over his shoulder towards thestreet.
“Be careful of it, won’t you now?” directed Frank, with a little laugh.“Remember, it’s our entire capital, and here’s the mailing lists. TellDarry to get them set up and printed just as quick as he can. We needthem at once.”
Frank had decided to have the mailing list names printed, each on aseparate line with a broad margin. This he did so they could keep apermanent record of the result of using each name. Besides that, in thefire at Riverton the lists had got charred, and some of them werebrittle and broken away, and some pages hard to decipher.
Markham clasped the wallet containing the money tightly in one hand,thrust it into his outside coat pocket, and tucked the rolled-up listsunder his arm.
“Be back soon,” he said.
“All right, do so. Want to have a little talk with you.”
Markham looked up quickly, hesitated, gave a sigh, and started rapidlydown the walk.
“I’ll have it over and done with, soon as he comes back,” reflectedFrank. “Poor fellow. Something’s on his mind. I’m going to help him getrid of it.”
Frank resumed his task. He was soon engrossed in finishing up a page ofwriting.
“Good,” he said finally, with satisfaction, “the last copy for thecatalogue. It will make twenty-four printed pages. The cuts I have hadmade and the cuts the supply houses have loaned me make a very fineshowing. Well, the first two weeks show up pretty good. Businessstarted, and paying expenses. Why, that’s queer,” exclaimed Frank with astart, as he chanced to glance at the clock--“Markham has been gone afull half-hour.”
It was queer. Markham had less than three squares to go on his errand.Usually he made the trip to Haven Bros. in five minutes.
Frank walked to the door and looked out. He stood there, growingrestless and anxious, as ten minutes went by. Then he grew restless, puton his cap, waited five minutes longer, and, closing the office door,went out to the street.
“Pshaw,” he said, looking up and down the street, “what am I worryingabout? Got that Dale Wacker on my mind, and it has upset me. Markham isprobably chatting with Bob Haven. Well, I’ve gone so far, I’ll step overto the printing office and see.”
Frank walked rapidly to the principal street, and up the flight ofstairs in a business block to Haven Bros.’s office.
As he entered he noticed all hands busy at cases and presses. Bob, shirtsleeves rolled up, was working on some chases on an imposing stone.Darry was reading proof at his desk.
But there was no Markham. Frank experienced a sensation of dread forwhich he could not account. He tried to keep cool, but the first word hespoke as he approached Darry made the latter look up quickly.
“Got the money I sent you, Darry?” asked Frank.
“Why, no--did you send it?”
“Yes--over half-an-hour ago.”
“Who by?”
“Markham.”
“Oh, then, he’s doing some other errand first,” said Darry. “Sit down,if you’re going to wait for him.”
“No, I’ll watch them doing things,” answered Frank, with an assumedlightness of tone.
He strolled about the neat little office, pretending to be interested.It was a dead failure. A lump of lead seemed bearing him down. Frankglanced at his watch. An hour had passed since he had sent Markham onhis errand.
“Be back soon, Darry,” he said, and went out of the printing office witha dull, sick feeling at heart.
Frank returned to his office. Markham was not there. He went back to theprint shop.
“Markham been here yet?” he inquired in a failing voice to Darry.
“Not yet, Frank.”
“Then something’s wrong,” suddenly burst out Frank, unable longer toendure the strain of suspense and dread.
“Why, how pale you are,” began Darry, rising from his chair.
“Yes, Darry,” said Frank in a quivering tone--“Markham is missing, andwith him my mailing lists and over two hundred dollars in cash.”