CHAPTER XIX A STARTLING DISCLOSURE
Ned Blake and Dick Somers had secreted themselves among the bushes insuch position that they could see any movement that might take place atthe rear of the house or along its eastern end. The moon was now wellabove the woods and, although in its last quarter, it still gavesufficient light to make near-by objects dimly visible. From their placeof concealment the boys could look out upon the shadowy surface of thelake, and many an anxious glance was turned that way, prompted by theremembrance of the craft whose mysterious movements had so puzzled thema few nights before. For the most part, however, their attention wasfixed upon the great house, which loomed black and sinister, save wherethe feeble moonlight silvered the slate roof and touched the gleamingwhite range-mark on the chimney. Oppressed by the ominous silence, theboys exchanged but few whispered words and moved only when necessary torelieve cramped muscles. An hour passed, and then Ned grasped hiscompanion’s arm and pointed to a dark object that had made its suddenappearance at the end of the house.
“What is it! Where did it come from!” Dick’s whisper was a gasp ofexcitement.
“I don’t know,” breathed Ned. “I didn’t see it till it moved! Hist! Lielow! It’s coming this way!”
The black shape, scarcely more than a blotch against the dark backgroundof the house wall, seemed to creep along the ground till the corner wasreached. Here it slowly straightened to the form of a man and, after amoment’s hesitation, stepped out upon the moonlit strip of sand which itcrossed with noiseless tread. Ten feet from the boys’ hiding-place itstopped as if to listen.
“NED BROUGHT HIM DOWN WITH A HARD DIVING TACKLE”]
“_Now!_” yelled Ned, and springing to his feet, he dashed straight atthe figure which turned in its tracks and fled with desperate speed backacross the open space toward the house.
“Help! Help! Head him off!” shouted Dick, and at the sound of his cry,Rogers and Beals leaped from their places.
But the flying figure never got past the end of the house. Ned Blake,running like an antelope, overtook and brought it down with a harddiving tackle. A furious struggle ensued, for the “ghost” proved to be adecidedly tough customer in a rough and tumble fight. Over and overrolled the combatants, Ned striving desperately to retain his leg hold,while Dick, who had been but a leap behind his leader’s dash, used everyounce of his own supple strength in a frantic effort to pinion thethreshing arms. Charlie Rogers, flashing into view around the corner ofthe house, brought timely reinforcement, and Tommy Beals, puffingpainfully from his own hard run, signalized his somewhat late arrivaland at the same time ended the battle by catapulting his ample weightfull upon the mid-section of the prostrate “ghost,” from whose body thebreath was expelled in a loud “Hah!”
Aroused by the shouts of combat, Dave Wilbur rushed to the scene andassisted the victors to carry their semi-conscious prisoner to thehouse. A candle was quickly brought and as its light shone upon thedistorted features the boys fell back with a cry of amazement. It wasthe face of Slugger Slade.
“Holy cat!” yelped Charlie Rogers. “What the blazes is _he_ doing here?”
“Just this minute he’s trying to recover his breath that Fatty knockedout of him,” replied Ned. “We’d better make sure of him while we havethe chance,” and slipping off his belt, Ned confined the slugger’s armsbehind his back. Dick hastened to bind the ankles in like manner, andwhen this had been done, the prisoner was hoisted to a chair.
“Well—what are you—going to do—about it?” gasped Slade with his firstreturning breath.
“First of all we’re going to ask what _you_ are doing on our property,”replied Ned, sternly. “If your answers aren’t satisfactory to us, wewill take you back to Truesdell and turn you over to the police.”
“All right then, if you want the truth, I was just hiding out here toscare you fellows—just for the fun of it,” sneered Slade, at the sametime flexing his great muscles in a testing strain on the strap whichbound his arms.
“It’s no use pulling at that belt,” advised Dick. “That’s the same beltyou fooled with once before. It beat you then and it’s going to be toomuch for you this time.”
Slade received the taunt with an ugly scowl and turned to Ned Blake.“Well, now that you’ve heard my explanation, what do you say?” hedemanded.
“Why, I’d say that as an explanation it leaves too many thingsunaccounted for,” replied Ned, evenly.
“What things?” growled Slade.
“Oh, little matters—like phony letters, and warnings, and ghost tricks,all calculated to interfere with our business,” suggested Ned. “We wantto know what your object was.”
“Just like I told you a minute ago,” persisted Slade. “I was trying toscare you fellows off the place. I worked it with the nigger, but—”
“Who sent you out here?” interrupted Beals.
“Nobody sent me,” growled Slade with an obstinate shake of his big head.“I just came of my own accord, and that’s all I’ll tell you—or the copseither!”
“Very well then, perhaps you’ll listen while I tell you something,”began Ned, quietly. “You are one of a gang that is making some use ofthis property of ours. The tug _Irma_ comes close to shore here andpicks up the old dredge ranges. A truck makes night trips back and forththrough that old wood-road between here and the Cleveland highway. Now,who besides yourself is mixed up in this and what is it all about?”
Slade maintained a sullen silence, and after a moment Ned continued.“I’ll tell you who two of them are,” he said deliberately and withouttaking his eyes from Slade’s face. “One is a tall, red-faced man namedMiller and the other is—Latrobe.”
“That’s what you’re _guessing_,” sneered Slade. “The chances are you’venever set eyes on Latrobe.”
“Yes, I’ve seen him three times,” was the quiet reply. “Once when hewore a diving-suit, and again when he rode up to Cleveland on myice-boat; but the last time I saw him was when he was talking to Millerout in the old wood-road last Thursday night.”
At these words, Slade straightened in his chair with an involuntarystart of surprise and the furtive look that flashed into his black eyesproved a sudden inspiration to Ned, who was watching him keenly.
“You remember, Slade,” Ned continued in a tone of assurance. “Youremember how the slabs fell down and Latrobe and Miller jumped out ofthe truck? _You_ were in the shanty, signaling with a flashlight.”
“Where were _you_?” The question burst from Slade’s throat in a gasp ofastonishment, which was ample confirmation of the correctness of Ned’sguess.
“Oh, we were behind the pile of slabs—Dave Wilbur and I,” laughed Ned.
“Yeah, I’ll say we were!” exclaimed Dave in his wheezy whisper. “We werethere all right—but I’ve learned a lot more in the last minute than Isuspected then!”
“Now, Slade,” resumed Ned, and the laugh was gone from his face and alsofrom his voice, “you may as well tell us the whole truth. Let’s begin atthe beginning. Who sent you out here?”
“Latrobe,” admitted Slade. “I’ve got a job with him over across the lakein Canada.”
“And your job was to scare us away from this house?”
“Yeah, that was it,” acknowledged Slade.
“Why did Latrobe want to get rid of us?” persisted Ned.
Slade shrugged his heavy shoulders and moistened his lips. “Latrobedoesn’t give his reasons for what he wants,” he muttered.
“How did you manage to appear and disappear so quickly?” demandedRogers. “Where were you hiding?”
“Oh, I was laying out in the brush,” replied Slade, who seemed moreready to answer when the questions concerned himself instead of hisemployer.
“No, you were not!” exclaimed Dick, hotly. “You’ve got some hole closeto the house! Now where is it?”
“If you knew that you’d soon learn a whole lot more,” was the sneeringreply.
“And w
hile we were learning it you might have a chance to make yourselfscarce around here,” interrupted Ned. “We’d like to solve this mysterywithout outside help, but if you refuse to talk, we’ll turn you over tothe police and see what luck they have with you. The game is up. Takeyour choice; talk to us or to the police.”
Slade hesitated and lowered the lids over eyes which had grown suddenlycrafty. “You spoke of giving me a chance,” he began, speaking slowly andevidently choosing his words with care. “Do you mean I’ll be free to goif I show you what I know?”
“Absolutely,” declared Ned, after a glance at the other boys had assuredhim of their approval. “Play fair with us and we’ll let you go.”
“All right,” agreed Slade. “Take off these straps.”
“Not so fast,” interposed Ned. “We’ll give you the use of your feet andthen if you prove yourself worthy, we’ll carry out the rest of thebargain.”
The belt was removed from Slade’s ankles and he arose from the chair.“Now lead on,” directed Ned, “and remember, no tricks—or into theflivver you go for a rough ride to town!”
The crafty expression in Slade’s eyes changed to a gleam of treachery,which might have aroused suspicion, had the boys noted it. Unfortunatelyfor them, as events proved, they were too intent upon solving themystery, as they eagerly followed their prisoner out of the door anddown the steps. Rounding the corner of the house, Slade continued alongits eastern wall and stopped before one of the foundation stones, a bigslab some four feet long and three feet in height. “Give me the use ofmy hands and I’ll show you,” he offered.
“Nothing doing!” replied Ned, decidedly. “You’ll tell us what to do and_we’ll_ do it!”
“Suspicious, eh?” sneered Slade, and again he veiled the malicious lightthat flashed into his black eyes. “All right,” he continued, “step onthat piece of white stone in the ground close to the wall.”
Ned did so and felt the stone settle an inch beneath his foot.
“Now push hard against the end of that slab,” continued Slade,indicating the big foundation stone.
Beals put his weight upon the point indicated and the slab swung inwardpivoting upon a perpendicular axis near its center. The resultingopening was about three feet high and two feet wide, affording access tothe cellar under the house.
“Well, are you satisfied?” demanded Slade, when the excited exclamationsof astonishment had ceased.
By way of answer, Ned Blake unbuckled the belt from the slugger’s arms.“I don’t bear you any ill will, Slade, and I guess the rest of the boysfeel the same. Evidently you’ve been mixed up in some sort of funnybusiness and we’re going to know what it is mighty soon. Take my adviceand keep straight hereafter.”
“Don’t you worry about _me_. I’ll take care of myself,” growled Slade,and turning on his heel, he strode away and passed from sight among theshadowy woods that bordered the lake.