The Motor Boat Club at Nantucket Part 24

murmured the troubled man.

Plainly the owner was not the man to discuss this suspicion with. Toward dark, however, Tom and Joe went to one man on the place whom they believed to be above all suspicion. That was big Michael, the coachman.

With Michael, they discussed the matter long and earnestly.

Though the honest coachman could tell them nothing definite, Tom Halstead went away from that talk on a new scent of danger ahead.

Dawson, too, was thinking hard, and, as a consequence, was even more quiet than usual.

"I'm afraid it wouldn't be much use to go to Mr. Dunstan with this,"

sighed the young captain. "We'll just keep our eyes open."

CHAPTER XVI-FOLLOWING UP THE CLUE

There was plenty to do by the time the boys got back to the pier. Jed, lone-handed, was pumping gasoline into the tank through the strainer.

Several barrels of the oil had been sent down to the water front.

Stripping off their coats, Tom and Joe turned to and helped.

Bouncer, the bull pup, was on hand also, chained in the engine room. In view of the late near-tragedy Mr. Dunstan had decided to keep the dog aboard, at the home pier, hereafter, and had brought Bouncer down himself.

"We'll finish this job Jed, if you'll turn to and cook up a quick supper," proposed Halstead.

"Anything on?" asked Jed, looking keenly at them.

"I shouldn't wonder," nodded the young captain.

Jed asked no more questions, but got a tempting supper ready in close to record time. As they were eating Tom told Jed, in low tones, the little they had discovered.

Briefly, it was this: The Dunstan gardener and greenhouse man was a Frenchman named Gambon. He was a quiet, even sulky fellow, who had made no friends among the other employes of the place. Mr. Dunstan had once rebuked the Frenchman for some carelessness. Michael had seen Gambon shake his fist after the employer as the latter was going away. This had happened four months ago.

There was not very much in that alone. But Gambon, who lived in a little two-room cottage all by himself, and who had no work to occupy him evenings, had always been in the habit of smoking and reading, then retiring early. For more than the last fortnight, however, Gambon had left the place every evening. Sometimes he was gone an hour; sometimes he had not returned until late. Two nights after Ted's disappearance Michael, who had reported to Mr. Dunstan concerning the Frenchman's actions, had been authorized to follow Gambon. The Frenchman, however, merely went to the Park in Nantucket and sat for a couple of hours on one of the benches, smoking and seemingly dreaming. Mr. Dunstan, when this tame fact was reported to him, pooh-poohed Michael's suspicions and forbade him to watch the Frenchman any longer.

"For," said Mr. Dunstan, "watching any man long enough is likely to make a half-rascal of him."

"But, Captain Tom, when a very quiet man suddenly changes the fixed habits av year-rs," said Michael earnestly, "then there's likely a strong reason for it, and maybe a bad one."

These were the facts that Tom and Joe now rehea.r.s.ed, in undertones, to Jed.

"Does it look likely, from that," asked Prentiss, "that Gambon would steal down here in early morning and pump our tank dry?"

"Michael saw him standing on the wharf this morning, smoking," replied Halstead. "Michael thought we must be up and about, though, so he didn't pay any attention to the Frenchman."

"Kind of a hazy clue, altogether, isn't it?" queried Jed.

"It's enough to be worth looking into," Tom replied earnestly. "Do you realize that to-morrow is the last day that Mr. Dunstan has to get Ted before the probate court! That, if he doesn't do it to-morrow, the big inheritance of millions goes by the board? So anything is big enough to work on to-night. It's our last chance. Now Mr. Dunstan has a.s.sured me that the 'Meteor' won't be ordered out to-night. Joe and I are going to watch the Frenchman. Jed, you'll want to stay right here by the boat and keep a sharp eye on it, for Gambon may not be the one who is trying to put the 'Meteor' on the sc.r.a.p heap. You'll have Bouncer to help you.

Even if it came to taking the boat over to Wood's Hole, on a changed order, you're equal to it, aren't you?"

"Just give me the chance!" cried Jed. "I'd welcome it."

As soon as dark fell Joe stole across the grounds at the further end, stationing himself by the road. Tom, on the other hand, hid himself not far from Gambon's little cottage. This was the plan of the chums to prevent the Frenchman from giving them the slip, in case he had any suspicions. There was still a light in Gambon's cottage. After half an hour, however, the light vanished. Then Gambon came out, carrying a thick walking stick.

Tom watched the Frenchman until he was out of sight. Then after him the young skipper went on tip-toe. It was not difficult to keep quietly on the trail, for the gardener appeared far from suspicious.

Then, minutes later, Joe stepped out from behind a tree, touching Tom lightly on the arm. They went along together.

"It's easy so far," whispered Halstead.

"May be a reason," answered Joe. "Our Frenchman may have nothing to conceal. Perhaps he's only going courting."

As Michael had reported, the gardener's route lay along the highway to Nantucket. The lights of the little town were in sight when Halstead suddenly gave Joe a nudge. Both dodged behind bushes. For the Frenchman had stepped off the road under some trees. First looking around him, Gambon next bent over, moving a stone twice the size of his head. He picked up a piece of paper. Tom and Joe were breathing hard by this time.

Carefully replacing the stone, Gambon struck a match, scanning the piece of paper he held in his hand. In another instant he touched the flaming match to a corner of the paper, watching it burn up.

"Confound him for that!" muttered Tom in his chum's ear.

Gambon was coming back now. The two friends crouched lower behind the bushes. By them walked the Frenchman, looking straight ahead. As soon as it seemed wise to do so the chums started after him. They saw him, however, return to his cottage, where he lighted his lamp, smoked and by and by extinguished the light and went to bed.

"We've found the spy," groaned Tom, as the two chums neared the pier.

"It's fearful luck, Joe, that we couldn't have known about him before.

But it's too late now for the knowledge to do us any good. To-morrow is the last day for Ted Dunstan to show up. After we see that the boat and Jed are safe I'll run up to the house for a moment and see Mr. Dunstan."

When Tom told their employer, a little later, what they had discovered that gentleman at first appeared considerably interested.

"I'm afraid, though, Halstead," he commented, "that we're all of us inclined to suspect anything and anyone. Gambon is a bachelor and has saved a goodly bit of money. What more likely than that he may be courting a sweetheart? That would be a likely enough place for her to leave a note for him. Perhaps it was only a note as to an engagement that had to be broken for this evening, for, as you say, Gambon came right back. Whatever the note was about we'd probably feel rather ashamed if we forced the Frenchman to tell us about it. By the way, I am going to bed at once, now, for at at half-past five in the morning I shall want to start for Wood's Hole. I've heard from Crane again, and he's coming over with me at full speed, in order to be in court with me.

We're going to see if we can't get an adjournment for one day. Of course, there seems little hope of it, as the terms of the will are so exacting. Oh, Halstead, I made a huge mistake in letting the matter go so long!"

There were tears in Mr. Dunstan's eyes. Halstead, much touched, bade his employer goodnight, returning to the boat.

CHAPTER XVII-JOE PLAYS JUSTICE A SCURVY TRICK

Over a sea "as smooth as gla.s.s," that fateful Monday morning, the "Meteor" made a das.h.i.+ng run to Wood's Hole. It was just five minutes of seven by the clock when the swift craft tied up at the village on the mainland.

All through the trip Horace Dunstan had remained seated in one of the armchairs in the c.o.c.kpit aft. His head had been bowed in sorrow. His face was haggard and ashen, for he had not slept through the night.

On the pier awaiting him stood Mr. Crane, his lawyer, and Musgrave, who had been in charge of the force of detectives who had been vainly seeking the young heir.

"You have not a word of hope, of course, gentlemen?" asked Mr. Dunstan in a weak voice.

"There is no news whatever," replied Musgrave.

"Our only hope," added Crane, "lies in the barest possibility that the court may find some legal excuse for adjourning the matter for a few days and giving us a chance for a longer hunt."