CHAPTER IX
JUST TOO LATE
"Shall we stop and pick up the other fellows?" demanded Al as the heavycar shot up the road toward High Street. They had to cross the railroadtracks to get into the Elmvale road.
"Stop for nothing!" exclaimed Phil Morgan. "I feel that we can't delay aminute."
But as it chanced Michael Donahue was standing at the open door of theRosenmeyer delicatessen shop as the Torrance car wheeled around thecorner into Seacove's main street. Dusky as it now was, the Irish ladrecognized the car and the two boys on the front seat.
"Hi, Ikey!" he yelled to his chum, back in the store. "See who'sjoy-riding! And they never said a word about it."
Ikey ran out in a hurry.
"Stingy! Stingy!" he cried, almost getting into the path of theautomobile.
Torry had been obliged to slow down to turn the corner; so it was easyfor the reckless Frenchy and Ikey to jump upon the running board of thecar.
"Tumble in, kids!" exclaimed Torry, out of the corner of his mouth, forhe had to keep his eyes ahead for traffic. "We're in a hurry."
"I--should--think--you--were!" gasped out Frenchy, as the car jouncedover the railroad tracks by the station. "I almost swallowed my gum."
"Who's sick?" demanded Ikey.
"Nobody. Sit down," adjured Whistler. "We're going to Elmvale."
"Wow, wow!" yelled Frenchy. "What for?"
"We don't know till we get there," declared Torry suddenly grinning.
Torry increased the speed the very next moment. There were not manyconstables around Seacove, and the first five miles of the road toElmvale was perfectly straight. The amber lamps of the car gave a goodlight ahead, and Torry was really a safe driver.
But he seemed reckless on this evening. Inspired by the same feelingthat impressed Whistler Morgan, he felt that they could not get toElmvale too quickly.
During the journey the older boys vouchsafed no explanation to theyounger pair save that they had made an engagement with Mr. Santley atthe munition factory over the telephone. In fact, they had no idea whatthey would do, or what they would say to Mr. Santley.
The car roared on, the dogs barked behind them, and finally they came tothe slope leading down into Elmvale. Lights were already twinkling inthe valley. But the mills were closed, and even the munition factoryseemed deserted.
This time they did not take the Upper Road, but drove through the centerof the little hamlet. The stores were open and there were lights in mostof the cottages of the workmen. There were lively parties in all thelong, barrack-like boarding houses. The town was wide awake.
Torry brought the car to an abrupt stop before the brick office buildingof the munition works. The place had been a mill before the war. Thelong, many-windowed buildings behind the offices covered a good deal ofground. There was a high stockade fence about the whole plant. An armedguard stood at the main door when Whistler ran up the steps. The otherboys chose to wait in the car for him.
"I want to see Mr. Santley," Whistler said to the guard in khaki.
"The manager? I don't know whether he is here at this hour or not."
"I see lights in the offices yonder. And I have made an appointment withhim."
At that moment the bolts of the big door were shoved back and a manlooked out. Whistler Morgan did not know the manager of the munitionworks by sight; but the guard at once said:
"Here's a boy to see you, Mr. Santley."
"What is your name, young man?" asked the manager, eying the boy withinterest.
Whistler told him.
"Dr. Morgan's son, from Seacove? Come in," and Whistler was usheredinside and the heavy door was again barricaded.
"We have to keep locked up here like a fortress at night," said Mr.Santley. "Come in and let me hear what you have to say, young man. Whatdo you know about Mr. Blake?"
"Did you know he had been out at sea on an oil tender to-day?" blurtedout Whistler. "She was chased by a submarine chaser, but the tenderescaped in the fog. Afterward she came into Rivermouth Harbor withouther cargo."
"What's this? What's this?" demanded Mr. Santley. "Why, that has nothingto do with the factory."
They were in his private office. He stood with his hand upon Whistler'sshoulder and asked the boy sternly:
"What have you to tell me about Mr. Blake, anyway? I don't want to heara lot of inconsequential gossip. I am worried about the man."
"Yes, sir. So am I," declared Whistler very earnestly. "I've beenworried about him ever since the other day when we fellows were overhere trying to get some of the boys to enlist in the Navy."
"Ah, were you one of that crowd?" asked Mr. Santley.
"Yes, sir; and coming over here we saw that man Blake----"
He went on to tell the manager of the munition factory about how hissuspicions were aroused and about the water wheel he had found at thefoot of the dam, ending with a detailed account of the affair of the oiltender.
Mr. Santley's face expressed nothing but lively curiosity.
"And to-day you saw him on a boat that you think is a feeder for Germansubmarines?" muttered the manager. "It is whispered that they are offthis coast."
"We overheard this Blake and a man who I'm sure is captain of that oilboat talking in a restaurant to-night. They mentioned two-fifty whichI believe is the number of the submarine off this coast. They spoke asthough more were expected. The Germans are going to make a big drive onour shipping over here."
"You may be right, boy," agreed Mr. Santley. "That man Blake--well, hedoesn't seem to be in Elmvale now."
"He came back on this evening's train," declared Whistler.
"Are you sure? I have been waiting for him to show up here," cried Mr.Santley. "To tell the truth, young man, I have discovered some thingshere that I want him to explain. For one thing, I have picked up aletter in his locker which is addressed to him, it is evident, but notby the name of Blake. It is written in German and I want it explained."
"Oh, Mr. Santley!" cried Whistler, "I believe there is something wrong.He told that Captain Braun, of the _Sarah Coville_, that his work wasfinished here. He was only returning for a particular thing to Elmvale."
"But he hasn't come here!" exclaimed Mr. Santley. "And he has someprivate property in the office."
"Maybe he isn't coming here," breathed the boy. "Maybe he is only goingup to the dam!"
"To the dam?"
"That water-wheel business! It perplexes me," explained Whistler Morgan.
"We'll go up there and take a look!" exclaimed Mr. Santley, grabbing hishat and banging down the roll top of his desk and locking it. "You'vegot me all stirred up now, boy."
They hurried out of the office. Mr. Santley spoke in a low voice to thearmed guard on the front steps.
"If Blake comes here, hold him till I return," he said. "Do youunderstand? _Hold him_--even if you have to knock him down and sit onhim."
"All right, sir," said the man, nodding grimly.
Mr. Santley started down the steps after the excited Whistler, who wasalready getting into the automobile, the engine of which was stillrunning. At that instant the night was as peaceful as could be. Thevalley below the high dam lay quietly under the light of the stars, anda pale moon was just rising above the treetops.
Then, with a shock which electrified the atmosphere and seemed to makeheaven and earth tremble, a burst of flame rose at the foot of the dam,not more than half a mile away!
The glare of it blinded them; the reverberating explosion that followedalmost immediately well nigh stunned them. It was Ikey, standing in thetonneau of the car, and pointing a trembling arm toward the dimlydistinguished wall of masonry, whose voice was first heard:
"Look! Look! The dam's broke!"
A balloon-shaped cloud of smoke had risen above the wall of masonry.Beneath it the dam crumbled, dissolved, and poured away into the bed ofthe river like the changing picture in a kaleidoscope.