CHAPTER IV.
A CLUE IN HINDOOSTANEE.
"Who are you, my friend?" inquired Burton bluntly.
"A friend of Motor Matt," replied Twomley easily. "He'll vouch for me,I fancy."
"Mr. Twomley, attach? of the British Legation at Washington, Burton,"said Matt. "Mr. Burton," Matt added to the Englishman, "is theproprietor of the show. The other lad is Carl Pretzel, who is alsoa chum of mine. We can talk over this matter before them. Carl hadeverything to do with the finding of Margaret Manners, back there atLafayette."
"Aw," drawled Twomley, screwing his monocle in his eye, and regardingthe Dutch boy, "he's the claimant for that thousand pounds reward, Idare say."
Tremors of excitement ran galloping through Carl.
"Haf you prought der money?" he fluttered. "Vas you looking for me topay ofer dot rewart?"
"I am sorry to say that I haven't brought the money. That matter isstill in abeyance."
"Vat iss dot?" asked the puzzled Carl. "I don'd _verstch_ dot vortapeyance."
"He means the matter is still pending, Carl," put in Matt. "In otherwords, you haven't got the money yet."
"I know dot, aber vill I ged it? Dot's vat gifs me some vorries."
"The rajah's a regular topper," said Twomley. "He'd never miss athousand pounds, and I fancy he'll do the right thing."
"Mooch opliged," breathed Carl, in deep satisfaction. "It vas ahabbiness to know dot I ged him some dime."
"Now, if you wish," went on Twomley, stretching out his hand for theletter.
"Just a moment, Mr. Twomley," said Matt. "We don't know much about thisletter, and I'd like to find out where and how Carl got it, and whatthe dispute is about."
The Dutch boy launched into an explanation, beginning with the Romancandle and ending at the place where Burton refused to turn the letterover to Wily Bill. Carl touched but lightly on the culpability of Pingin the matter of the Roman candle. In this he was wise. Motor Matt'sorders were to the effect that there should be no bickering between theDutch boy and the Chinese lad. They had been at swords' points for along while and had only recently developed a friendly feeling for eachother.
"I always sized up that Wily Bill for a false alarm," remarked McGlory."Can he read that Hindoostanee lingo? I'll bet my spurs he can't! Ifthat's the case, what's he doing with the letter?"
"He must have wanted it a whole lot," said Matt, "or he wouldn't havemade such a fight to get it. Perhaps the letter itself will be a clue.Tell us what's in it, Mr. Twomley," and Matt passed the letter to theEnglishman.
The latter studied the sheet with absorbed attention. Finally he sprangup.
"By Jove!" he exploded.
"What's the matter?" inquired Matt.
"This is luck! Just fancy such a clue coming into our hands at thisvery moment when it is most needed. Aw, it's--aw--incredible."
"You might give us a chance to pass judgment on that, Mr. Twomley,"returned Burton. "Maybe it's not so incredible as you seem to think."
"It was written by Ben Ali," said the attach?.
"_That_ tinhorn!" exclaimed McGlory. "I thought we'd cut him out of ourherd altogether. Beats creation how he keeps bobbing up."
"Who's it for?" spoke up Matt. "Has Bill Wily any right to it?"
"The name of Wily doesn't appear anywhere in the writing," answeredTwomley. "In fact, the letter's addressed to a fellow named Dhondaram."
Here was another hot shot. Both McGlory and Matt were brought excitedlyto their feet.
"Dhondaram!" growled Burton, with an expressive glance at the king ofthe motor boys. "I thought we'd heard the last of that villain."
"Who was he?" demanded Twomley.
"A Hindoo----"
"So I gather from the name."
"He blew into the show grounds with a cobra and a home-made flute, whenwe were at Jackson, and I gave him Ben Ali's place as driver of ourman-killin' elephant, Rajah. Oh, he did a lot of things, Dhondaram did.We captured him, but he got loose and dropped off the train betweenstations."
"Aw, Ben Ali didn't know that," reflected Twomley. "Ben Ali must havethought he was still with the show, and sent this letter to him."
"What does the letter say?" asked Matt, with some impatience.
"It asked Dhondaram to finish his work as soon as possible and to joinBen Ali, with the money, in short order."
A silence followed, and during the silence the motor boys exchangedwondering looks.
"What was Dhondaram's work?" queried Twomley.
"Nothing more or less than putting Pard Matt out of the running,"replied McGlory. "Ben Ali's on the warpath against Matt, because ofwhat he did in Lafayette, and Dhondaram tried hard to wipe my pard offthe slate."
"Ben Ali speaks of money," went on Twomley. "What does that mean?"
Burton muttered wrathfully.
"I'll bet a thousand," said he, "that refers to the proceeds ofthe afternoon performance in Jackson, which the ticket man andthis Dhondaram tried to get away with. Ben Ali put up the job withDhondaram, and the ticket man was helping them out."
"Matters must have been lively all around in Jackson," observedTwomley. "Dhondaram didn't get the money?"
"Not so you could notice," answered McGlory. "Pard Matt jumped in andplugged that little game."
"Ben Ali," reasoned the king of the motor boys, "has probably beenthinking of recapturing Miss Manners for some time. All he hadDhondaram try to do, in Jackson, was to help on his villainous schemes.But Dhondaram failed. Probably Ben Ali is needing some money prettybadly, about now. What is the date of that letter, Mr. Twomley?"
"There is no date."
"Then there's no telling how long Bill Wily has carried it in hispocket?"
The attach? shook his head.
"He must have got it after we left Jackson, pard," interposed McGlory."If he had got it before, he'd have passed it on to Dhondaram."
"How he got it at all is a mystery," mused the young motorist. "He hasprobably seen and talked with Ben Ali."
"Before the show got to Jackson, then," continued the cowboy, who wasdoing a little sharp thinking. "If he had talked with Ben Ali after thedoings in Jackson, he'd have told the old skinner how Dhondaram felldown."
"There's a clue here, but it's not so promising as it might be," camedisappointedly from the Englishman.
Matt walked toward the tent door.
"Our best clue," said he decisively, "is Bill Wily. We'd better go tothe side show and have a talk with him."
"Bring him here, Matt," suggested Burton. "We can talk with him in thisplace to better advantage than in the side-show tent. I'll go with youand make sure he comes. The rest of you wait," and the showman startedfrom the calliope tent after Matt.
Inquiry of the man on the door at the side show developed the fact thatBill Wily had started for town. He had been gone about five minutes,Matt and Burton were informed, and had left the show grounds for thestreet-car track.
"He's making a getaway!" averred Burton.
"That's the way it looks," agreed Matt. "We've got to stop him, if wecan."
Without loss of time the king of the motor boys and the showman hustledfor the place where the street-car track made a loop, just beyond a bigconcert garden. They were hoping to catch Wily before he could board acar.
But in this they were disappointed. A car was moving off in thedirection of town, and all their frantic yells and gestures werepowerless to secure the attention of the conductor.
"It'll be fifteen minutes before there's another car," panted Burton,"and by that time the 'barker' will be--the deuce only knows where.It's a cinch, Matt, that he's scared, and is running away. If there wasan automobile handy, we could overhaul the car." Burton looked in everydirection. "But, of course," he added, "whenever you want a chug-wagonthere's none in sight."
A familiar humming drew Motor Matt's attention. Looking in thedirection of the sound, he saw a motor-cycle spinning along the roadfrom the direction of Grand Rapids. A young fellow of nineteen ortwenty was in the saddle.
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"There's something that will do--if we can borrow it," said Matt, andjumped into the road and waved his hands.
The motorcycle came to a stop.
"Are you flagging me?" asked the driver of the machine.
"Yes," said Matt hurriedly. "I want to overhaul the street car thatjust left here. There's a man aboard that we've got to catch. Will youlet me take your motorcycle?"
"Well, I guess not!" was the reply. "The last time I loaned thismachine I was two days getting it back into shape again."
"I'll give you twenty dollars for the use of it, young man," put inBurton eagerly.
"No inducement," was the answer.
"There's hard luck for you, Motor Matt," grunted Burton.
The young fellow had been on the point of starting away, but hesuddenly paused and turned to Matt.
"Are you Matt King," he asked, "the fellow they call Motor Matt?"
"Yes," was the reply.
"Doing an a?roplane stunt with the show?"
"Yes."
"Well, take the machine. It won't cost you a cent, either. I work ina motor-car factory in the Rapids, and we've heard a good deal aboutyou there. I'm tickled to death to be able to help you out. Bring themachine back here when you're done with it, and you'll find me waiting."
"Such is fame!" laughed Burton.
With a hasty word of thanks, Matt headed the machine the other way andgot into the saddle.
One turn of the pedal and the motor took up its cycle. Half a minutelater the king of the motor boys was out of sight down the road.