CHAPTER II.
MIXED IDENTITIES.
"You're all right, neighbor," panted the fugitive as he settled back inthe carriage seat. "I was in a tight corner, but the copper hadn't anycall to rough things up with me like he did. How did you happen to behandy by and willing to give me a lift?"
"I've been watching you for fifteen or twenty minutes," answered theman.
"Piping me off, eh? Why was that? What's your graft, anyhow? Put mewise and oblige."
"Oh, drop it!" said the other disgustedly. "You know me, all rightenough. Look!"
The man wore a black beard. Lifting his hands as he spoke he plucked itaway, revealing a smoothly shaven face.
"Recognize me now?" he queried, with a husky laugh.
"If I do I'm a geezer," answered the youth. "Why the bogus windteasers? Gee, but this is a warm play."
"You make me tired!" scowled the man. "My name's Whistler, as you knowwell enough."
"Whistler, Whistler," murmured the fugitive. "On the level, Whistler,you've got past my guard. But what's the diff? You're one-two-sevenwith me for lifting me out of that bunch of trouble. But, tell me,whose game of muggins is this, and what's the stake? Anything higherthan two-call-five and a quarter to see puts me out of the running.You've heard of the bank that broke the man at Monte Carlo? Well,listen--I'm It. Please drop that dizzy front, old fel, and tell mewhy you're a counterfeit. Not being a has-wasser myself, I'm game foranything that promises kopecks, simoleons, or anything white or yellowwith the eagle bird and E Pluribus Get-there on the side. Have one?"
With two yellow-stained fingers, the youth pulled a cigarette box fromunder his sweater and offered it to the man. The latter, apparently ina daze, shook his head negatively. With a grin, the fugitive lighted acigarette and put away the box.
"Now, Whistler," he pattered, "cut away with the straight dope and tellme all about it."
Whistler narrowed his eyes and studied the fugitive's face for a minute.
"You've got more tricks in your basket, Matt King," said he, "than I'vegiven you credit for, up to now."
"Thanks, Whistler," drawled the youth, "you'll never hear me puttingup a roar when that sort of con talk is shoved at me. Yes, indeed,I've gathered much knowledge while knocking about our little planet.Experience came to me early and says, 'Joe, put your little hand inmine and let's go out and take a bird's-eye view of the Universe.' Wewent. Perhaps that's why, at the present speaking, I'm in N. O. all butbroke. Being bashful and retiring, I don't like to feature myself; butyou're keen, Whistler, and I couldn't dodge you."
The torrent of language flowed steadily, and as it flowed Whistler grewmore and more surprised.
"Great jumping je-lucifer!" he muttered. "You've changed a whole lotin the last few days, King. I suppose that happened when you took tocigarettes?"
"Nay, not according to league rules." The lad allowed a mouthful ofsmoke to trickle out through his lips and nose. "King, eh?" he went on."How you do keep handing me the bokays. I was king of the track when Irode the ponies, king of the plungers when I played 'em, and king ofthe 'bos now they've broke me. Oh, yes, call me King by all means."
Whistler, still staring, sat back and mumbled to himself.
"What do you call yourself, _now_?" he asked.
"A mistake. I took the wrong turn at the forks of the road.Prosperityville lay on the other track and I'm just over the hillfrom the poorhouse. Also I call myself Dennis, and I spell it M-u-d.When I was christened they named me Joe, and the other part of it wasDashington. Generally they referred to me as Dash. That's about all Iamount to, now; just a dash--a straight line that ought to stand forsomething, but don't."
"You're a pretty slick counterfeit yourself, King," laughed Whistler."I never dreamed that Motor Matt could play himself up like this."
"My, my!" murmured Joe Dashington. "He thinks I'm stringing him! If I'dbeen careless with the truth he'd have believed me; but now that I'mgiving it to him straight, he winks the other eye and drops a mitt onhis left shoulder."
The carriage came to a stop. Joe Dashington started up and lookedthrough the carriage window.
"Have the cops landed on me?" he inquired, "or have we reached theplace we're going?"
"We've stopped where I wanted to, Motor Matt," returned Whistler. "Doyou see this?"
He lifted a hand from his outside jacket pocket and showed a glimmeringbit of steel.
"Not being blind," answered Dash calmly, "I'm wise to the pepper box.Ah, ha, the plot thickens! Why the gun?"
"I said I was watching you, there on the dock," answered Whistlersternly, "and I was doing it for a purpose. You were disguised, and Ibelieved then and am of the opinion now that you were trying to findout something about me. I intended going to False River on that boat,but changed my plans when I saw you. You're going to get out here andaccompany me into the house before which we have stopped; and you'regoing to remember, Motor Matt, that this pepper box is in my pocket allthe time, and that I can use it there just as well as though I had itin sight."
"Yes, yes, this is a funny play, but I'm a passenger, Mr. Whistler, andyou seem to hold all the trumps. I shall be glad to go into the housewith you. Johnny Hardluck has been rubbing my fur the wrong way fordays and days, and I'd get heart failure if he didn't keep it up."
Whistler opened the door with one hand, and he and the youth got out ofthe carriage, crossed the walk, climbed a flight of steps and vanishedinto the house. They were met in the hall by a man who showed a gooddeal of surprise.
"Great Scott, Whistler!" fretted the man. "I thought you were on yourway to False River, by now."
"Changed my plan, Jurgens," replied Whistler. "Conduct us into thefront room where the light is better. I've a surprise for you."
Jurgens gave a sharp look in the fugitive's direction, turned and ledthe way into an apartment where the late afternoon sun rendered objectsclearer to the eye.
"What!" he cried, startled. "Matt King!" He whirled angrily onWhistler. "What do you mean by bringing him here?"
"Don't go off the jump, Jurgens," answered Whistler, "until you learnmore. Bangs went with me to the landing, and just as I was about togo on the boat I caught sight of King. I wondered why he was gotup like that, and I believed that he was watching me. While I waswondering whether I should go on the boat, or not, this lad turned alittle trouble on the levee. Those two chums of his, the sailor andthe Dutchman, signaled and one of them laid a letter on a cotton bale.King went forward to get it and a spark from his cigarette fired thebale. A policeman started after him, and I motioned for him to cometo the carriage. I saw, then, that he didn't know me. He accepted myinvitation and I brought him away. Now we can make him tell us what hisgame is, and we can have a look at that letter."
Joe Dashington listened to all this with a surprised grin.
"I suppose I ought to have heart failure over this," he remarked, "but,somehow, it don't phase me. I can't be much worse off than I am, nomatter what happens. When you gents find out you've made a sucker play,perhaps you'll tell me how I can turn enough of the ready for a boardbill and a place to pound my ear."
"He's trying to tell me that his name's not King," scoffed Whistler.
Jurgens, deeply interested, laid his head on one side and studied theyouth at some length.
"His face is King's, plain enough," said he finally, "but he's riggedout like a hoodlum and talks like a beachcomber. What's the answer?"
"I'm by," laughed Joe Dashington. "You fellows tell me."
He lighted another cigarette.
"Pass over that letter," ordered Whistler.
Dashington, without a dissenting word, handed the letter to Whistler.
"I know as much about it as you do," said he. "If it's an invite to goout with a stocking full of sand, please count me in. Anything withmoney in it looks good to me."
The envelope bore the words, "For Motor Matt."
"He's King, easy enough," averred Jurgens, looking over Whistler'sshoulder.
"That's a cin
ch," averred Whistler, opening the letter and removing theinclosed sheet.
Together the two men read the letter, managing to keep wary eyes on theyouth as they did so.
"DEAR MATT: I'm lying ill in bed, out on Prytania Street. Dick and Carl know the place. There's a bag of diamonds to be delivered to the daughter of the Man from Cape Town, over on St. Charles Avenue, and you're the only one I can trust to do the work. You will have to be careful about it, and I wish you would come here at midnight to-night and get the stones. I haven't told either Carl or Dick what I want you to do, and when you read this I think you had better keep it to yourself--even from them. I've a feeling in my bones that there's trouble ahead, and I want to get the responsibility of those diamonds off my shoulders as quickly as possible.
"Yours, ARCHIBALD TOWNSEND."
Exultation flamed in the faces of Whistler and Jurgens.
"Luck!" cried Whistler. "This is our lucky day, Jurgens, and nomistake."
"Nothing ever dropped into our hands so easy before!" jubilatedJurgens. "All we've got to do is to think of some way to pull off thedeal and----"
Feet clattered up the outside steps. Leaving Whistler to look after theyouth, Jurgens darted into the hall.
"Hello, Bangs!" he exclaimed, a moment later. "What's the trouble?"
"I was down on the levee when Whistler took a fellow we both thoughtwas Motor Matt into a carriage and rushed away with him," came thevoice of Bangs, as Jurgens led him into the front room; "but when I----"
Bangs likewise wore a false beard. He was pulling it off as he cameinto the room, but suddenly he stopped and stared. His eyes were on JoeDashington.
"Well?" demanded Jurgens curtly.
"That--that chap is a dead ringer for Motor Matt!" gasped Bangs,pointing to the youth.
"A dead ringer for him?" echoed Whistler. "Why, Bangs, he _is_ MotorMatt."
"That's what I thought when you rushed away with him," continued Bangs,"but you hadn't been gone three minutes when Motor Matt showed up onthe levee and the officer tried to arrest him."
Jurgens and Whistler seemed stupefied. They stared at each other, thenat Bangs, and then at the grinning face of Dashington.
"If I could see as much as two bones in this, gents," remarked theyouth, "I'd be tickled out of my kicks. This Motor Matt must be abeaut if he looks like yours truly. What's in the letter? Can't we useit some way and get a strangle hold on a basket of rocks? I've got ahorrible financial stringency staring me in the face, and I'm ripe foranything."
An idea, just then, laid hold of Jurgens.
"By George!" he exclaimed. "Fate must have framed up this whole playfor our especial benefit. Get together, all of you, and listen to me!I've got a scheme, and it's a world beater."