CHAPTER VII.

  A SURPRISE AT HOOLIGAN'S.

  Instructed by Brady, who knelt on the floor of the car and watchedkeenly as they traveled through the air, Matt brought the Hawk down ina vacant lot back of a high billboard.

  The houses in the neighborhood were dark, as it was after midnight, andthe vague bulk of the gas bag, looming over the top of the billboard,would hardly have claimed the attention of any chance passerby on thesidewalk. At that hour, too, there were not liable to be any travelersin the street. The Hawk carried no lights, and the only noise she madein descending was caused by the low murmur of the cylinders.

  The craft was moored to the supports of the billboard, on one side,and to a heavy wagon on the other. The wagon was a truck, and it wasevidently the owner's custom to leave it over night in the lot.

  "I got the lay of the land when I came in here from the quarry,"explained Brady, in a low voice, "and I had just such an emergency asthis in mind. Directly across the alley is Hooligan's house. If youwant to reconnoitre, King, go ahead, but I'd advise you to be careful,for Whipple would be quick to use a knife or a revolver on you if hegot the chance."

  "I'll look out for Whipple," answered Matt confidently. "The chancesare, you know, that they're not there. We left them out by the canal,and I don't think they have had time to get here yet, if they walkedout to the old quarry."

  "We don't want to take any chance, Matt," said Ferral, "of those twoswabs getting next to us here. There'd be a pretty kettle of fish ifthey find us, use their guns, and then make off with the air ship--andBrady."

  "While I'm gone," returned Matt, impressed with Ferral's reasoning,"you and Carl will have to be on your guard. You'd better go to theend of the billboard, Carl, and watch the street. You can keep youreye on the alley, Dick. If Pete and Whipple happen to show up before Iget back, and you think the Hawk is in any danger, cut loose and sailaway--never mind me. You can hover around and pick me up later."

  "I don'd like dot, Matt," said Carl. "Meppy I pedder go mit you, hey?You vill be in more tanger as der air ship, I bed you."

  "I'm not going to get into any danger, and it's the Hawk we've got tobe sure of beyond everything else. You remember how anxious Harris wasto keep her out of the hands of any of Brady's gang? Well, we don'twant to lose the Hawk, and we don't want to cheat justice by lettingPete and Whipple get hold of her. I don't think there's much chance ofthe scoundrels showing up, but it's well to be on the safe side. IfMrs. Hooligan is alone there, when I come back I'll have Miss Brady;then we can get a policeman or two and have them lie in wait for Peteand Whipple when they come. I see how, if luck is with us, we can windthis whole matter up, right here. Brady's advice was good in having uscome directly here without losing any time. Now, I'm----"

  Matt paused. To his ears there came the popping of a motor just gettinginto action. The noise was followed by a steady hum of cylinders,getting down to work. The hum grew low in the distance and finally diedout.

  "Dere's a pubble!" muttered Carl.

  "In the street on the other side of Hooligan's," said Matt. "It'sgetting so you can hear automobiles at any time of the day or night."

  "But Hooligan's house faces a street where no one lives that's able toown an automobile," spoke up Brady.

  "Somebody else who doesn't live on the street is going through."

  "The machine had stopped. When we heard it it was just starting.Besides, it's a poor street, and no machine would come that way unlessthe driver blundered into the thoroughfare. I don't like it. Hurry up,King, and find out what's going on, if you can."

  Matt lost no more time, but gained the alley, climbed a rickety fenceon the other side, and stood in the back yard of the Hooligan home.

  The house was a small, one-story affair, shabby even in that faintlight, and the back yard was waist high with weeds. It was quite plainthat Hooligan's being away in summer was a bad thing for his home place.

  Matt approached the house cautiously and went completely around it.There was no light anywhere, and no sounds came from within.

  "Mrs. Hooligan has probably gone to bed," he thought. "If I wasabsolutely sure that Pete and Whipple had not got back, I'd rap on thedoor and try to get in in that way."

  While it seemed reasonable to suppose that the two rascals were stillabsent from the place, yet Matt did not want to run the risk of troubleby pounding on the door for Mrs. Hooligan.

  To get a policeman might have been the best plan, but Matt was none toosure of his ground, inclined though he was to put implicit faith inBrady's information.

  "I'll get in, if I can, and look around," he finally concluded. "TheHooligans might have a case against me for house-breaking, but I'lltake a chance. Besides, if what Brady says is true, we've got a biggercase against the Hooligans than they can possibly get against me."

  Softly he tried the front door. As he had imagined, it was locked.Then he tried the kitchen door, but with no better result. After thathe passed completely around the building endeavoring to raise one ofthe windows. The windows, like the doors, were secured. This seemedstrange, inasmuch as it was a warm night and just the time windowsshould be open to admit the air.

  With his pocket knife Matt succeeded in pushing aside the fasteningbetween the upper and lower sash of a window at the side of the house.He listened for a moment to see if his work had been detected by anyonein the building. Hearing nothing to arouse his apprehension, he pushedup the window and climbed into the dark room beyond.

  Silence reigned all around him. Taking a match from his pocket, hestruck it and surveyed the room.

  It was a bedroom. The bed was not disturbed, although the coverlet andpillow bore the imprint of a human form, as though some one had laindown on it for a few minutes' rest.

  From a nail in the wall hung an article which at once attracted Matt'sattention. It was a small gray shawl, and he at once recalled it as ashawl which he had seen Helen Brady wear.

  Here was fresh proof that Hector Brady had told the truth. Undoubtedlythe girl had been in that house, and that that was the room set asidefor her use. But where was she?

  Softly Matt opened a door and stepped through into the kitchen.There was a pile of dirty dishes on a table, and other evidencesthat the kitchen had been recently used. But there was no one there,and no sounds came to Matt to tell him that there was anyone, apartfrom himself, in the house. An open door admitted him into what wasundoubtedly the main living room. There was some disorder apparent, asthough those who had been in the house had left hastily.

  A heavy disappointment ran through the young motorist. Helen Brady hadbeen there, but she had been taken away! He was too late.

  While he stood in the centre of the living room, a flickering matchin his fingers, he heard something that sent his pulses to a fasterbeat. A faint sound as of stifled breathing came to him. There was onemore room he had not examined, and it opened off the one in which hewas standing. The choking respiration apparently reached him from thisunseen chamber.

  What lay beyond the closed door he did not know, but he had gone toofar to retreat. If Pete and Whipple were there, and if they werewaiting for him----

  But that thought did not dismay him. He was thinking of Helen Brady,and hoping against hope that she was still in the house.

  He let the match flicker out and, in the darkness, stepped to thedoor and pushed it open. The breathing was more distinct, but, apartfrom the person who caused the sound, there was no one else in theroom. Matt lighted another match, and started back with an astoundedexclamation.

  On the floor, almost at his feet, lay Harris! He was bound, wristand ankle, and a handkerchief gag was twisted between his jaws. Thepoliceman's wide-open eyes were rolling, and he was doing his utmost totalk.

  As soon as he had recovered himself somewhat, Matt stepped to awashstand and lighted a lamp that stood there; then, going down on hisknees, he proceeded to free the officer of his bonds and the gag.

  "Great Scott!" were the officer's first gasping words as he sat up
andraised both hands to his head, "how, in the name of all that's good, do_you_ happen to be here?"

  "I was just going to ask you the same question," answered thebewildered Matt.

  "Never had such a big surprise in my life!"

  "Nor I, either. I came here looking for Helen Brady, but I thoughtthere was no one at home, and I got through a window. How did you comehere?"

  "I was brought here by Pete and Whipple," was the astonishing reply.

  "Brought here by Pete and Whipple?" echoed Matt. "Why, we left them outby the canal and the old quarry."

  "Left them there, eh? What happened to you, Matt? I was scared stiff,on your account, back there in South Chicago. After you left, I calledup police headquarters in the city and asked after Dave Glennie--justthought I'd make sure I hadn't sent you into trouble. Glennie himselfanswered the phone. He hadn't written you any letter and didn't know athing about that proposed meeting. I got Graydon, another officer, andwe hustled off in an automobile. Couldn't find you at the quarry, andwhile Graydon was looking for you in one direction, and I was nosingaround in another, I was keeled over by Whipple. The two scoundrelsstole the automobile and brought me here. I don't know what the nationGraydon will think, or---- Ouch, my head! There's a lump on it asbig as my fist, and it feels as though it had been hit with a sledgehammer. But it's good for sore eyes to see you, Matt, and to find outthat you didn't get into trouble. If you----"

  A wild shout came muffled from the distance. It was Carl's voice, andevidently something was going wrong at the air ship.

  "That's Carl!" exclaimed Matt. "Come on, Harris. I've got to get out ofhere and see what's up. I left Carl and Dick with the Hawk in a vacantlot on the other side of the alley."

  Without waiting to explain further, Matt whirled and dashed from theroom.

 
Stanley R. Matthews's Novels