Rick Brant - The Lost City Part 4

They registered and were taken to their rooms, which were spa.r.s.ely furnished with wicker furniture. Rick unpacked and stowed his clothes, thinking that Scotty should be along soon. When his own stuff was arranged, he unpacked his friend's bag, then went into the professors' room.

"I'm hungry," he announced.

"Youth," Zircon sighed. "It can eat even in heat like this!" He mopped his face with a large handkerchief. "Very well, let us go to the dining room. Scotty can join us there."

They chose a table at the railing of the open-air dining room, and waiters came running with menus. Rick looked around curiously. Most of the diners were Indians, well dressed in Western suits. There was a sprinkling of British uniforms, and a few Europeans in white linens.

"Do you suppose any of this is safe to eat?" Weiss asked.

"Of course," Zircon a.s.sured him. "I myself will have the beefsteak."

There was a polite cough and they turned to see a man dressed in immaculate white linen, smiling down at them. He had very short, reddish-brown hair and sharp eyes, and he carried an expensive riding crop. "Your pardon, gentlemen," he said. "I was sitting at the next table and I couldn't help overhearing. I thought I would warn you that the beef is, unfortunately, quite apt to be camel."

"Camel!" Rick exclaimed.

"I'm afraid so. There is a meat shortage in India, you see, and beef is quite rare. Our Indian friends provide camel, so that the visitors who want beef need not be disappointed."

"It is very kind of you to warn us, sir," Weiss said.

The stranger bowed. "Permit me to introduce myself. I am Hendrick Van Groot. You, of course, are Drs. Zircon and Weiss, and this young man would be ... is it Scott or Brant?"

"Brant," Rick replied. He noticed a sharp, pungent odor, very familiar, that seemed to hang over Van Groot like an aura. He tried to identify it but couldn't quite remember.

"Won't you join us?" Zircon invited cordially.

"Thank you." Van Groot pulled out the chair next to Rick and sat down. "The Times of India carried a complete report on your coming radar experiment, a short time ago. I was very interested because I have traveled Tibet extensively. In fact, I know the Tengi-Bu Plateau quite well."

Rick listened in silence as the scientists exclaimed their delight in meeting someone who knew their destination. He decided Van Groot was a very unusual man. Only someone remarkable would be able to keep his linen suit so immaculate and well pressed in the heat. Rick's own clothes were long since limp and wrinkled.

Van Groot noted a fleck of dust on his spotless sleeve and produced a tissue from an inner pocket. He flicked the tiny bit of dust off, and the odor struck Rick's nostrils again, but stronger.

"Menthol!" he exclaimed Van Groot turned to him with a smile. "Yes. I purchase these tissues and place menthol crystals in the box. You see, I have lived in India and the Orient most of my life, and I have learned the value of caution. If one wishes to avoid disease, it is best never to touch things with the bare hands. These disposable tissues are invaluable. The menthol is ... shall we say a cover-up? My nose dislikes many of the odors of India."

The scientists nodded. "Quite right," Weiss said.

Rick remained silent. He had his own opinions about a man who was so fussy. Besides, he didn't like the odor of menthol. It reminded him of cold medicines. He stirred restlessly. What was keeping Scotty?

"I can recommend the curried lamb," Van Groot said. "They do it very well here."

At Zircon's questioning glance, Rick nodded. Curried lamb was all right with him, whatever it was.

When the waiter had taken their order, Van Groot asked, "Have you chosen your route to the plateau yet? I may be able to help, if you wish."

"The route has been decided by--" Weiss began.

There was a commotion at the door of the dining room. Rick turned to see what the trouble was. As he did, an incredibly dirty little native boy broke loose from the restraining hands of the waiters and ran across the dining room toward them.

The boy dodged the outstretched hands and ran to their table, the waiters in pursuit. "Sahibs!" he gasped. "I have a thing I wish to say!"

Then the waiters were upon him. He struggled, but they picked him up bodily, smothering his angry yells. In a moment he was out of the room and they heard the clatter as the waiters rushed him down the stairs.

"Now what do you suppose he wanted?" Rick asked, puzzled.

Van Groot shrugged. "Doubtless he had some tale to get money. This is a nation of beggars, you know. They are great hands at inventing tales that will bring a rupee or two."

Zircon spoke up. "What do you suppose is keeping Scotty?"

"He is rather late," Weiss said worriedly. "Rick, why don't you go to the lobby? He may be waiting for us at the desk."

Rick rose and, excusing himself, turned to leave, then stopped short with a gasp.

Scotty was just coming into the dining room. His white suit was dusty and stained, and his hair was disheveled. He strode up to the table, rubbing a large purple bruise on his forehead. The boy looked from face to face, his lips pressed tight together.

"The equipment is gone," he announced harshly.

CHAPTER VI.

Enter Chahda

FOR an instant there was silence around the table, then they were all talking at once.

Professor Weiss wrung his hands. "Scotty, are you sure? This is terrible! The equipment can't be gone. Hobart, do you hear? It must be a mistake."

"It's no mistake, sir," Scotty said.

Zircon put a shaking hand on the boy's shoulder. "There must be some explanation, son. Surely the equipment couldn't be stolen in broad daylight."

"I was riding on the back of the truck," Scotty explained. "We went through the gate and into the city, and then one of the natives pushed me from behind. I fell off the truck and cracked my head. It dazed me, I guess, because when I got up the truck was gone."

Weiss slumped into his chair. "I knew it," he groaned. "I've had a premonition of disaster. I told you, Hobart!"

Zircon ignored his distressed colleague. "Go on, son."

"I hailed a taxi and had him take me to the hotel warehouse. It's right around the corner from here. I thought it might have been an accident and the truck would show up. It didn't, so I came over to find you."

Zircon's face was pale, but he was calm. "Are you sure it was the right warehouse?"

"Yes, sir. I checked. Besides, the hotel clerk said they didn't send anyone because they weren't sure when we'd dock."

Van Groot spoke up. "But who on earth would steal your scientific equipment?"

"Conway," Rick muttered bitterly.

Van Groot's eyebrows went up. "Indeed? And who is Conway?"

"I wish we knew," Zircon said shortly. The big man's face was set in a determined expression. "Well find out, never fear! Well, I suppose our first step is to go to the police."

Julius Weiss had been completely stunned by the news. But now he leaped to his feet and objected loudly, "No, Hobart! The police are fools! We must go to the American consul and demand men to search. We must get the equipment back and at once, do you hear?"

"You are right," Zircon agreed. "It is best for the consul to handle this."

Weiss was paper-white, but he had regained control of himself. "You had better do something about that bruise," he told Scotty. "It must be very painful."

"It is," Scotty answered, then added bitterly, "Let it ache. It will remind me not to be such a dope again."

"Take it easy," Rick said. "It wasn't your fault."

"Of course not," Zircon agreed. "Well, let us go. The sooner we find the consul, the sooner he can get started on the trail of our equipment."

Van Groot dusted an imaginary speck of dust from his trousers with a mentholated tissue. "If I can be of aid, gentlemen, do not hesitate to call upon me," he said suavely. "I am registered here at the hotel."

The party hurried out and walked down the flight of steps to the street level, Rick and Scotty behind the professors.

"Who is that man?" Scotty wanted to know.

Rick explained, then added, "He's a queer duck. I don't like him."

As they went out the front door of the hotel, the beggar boy who had invaded the dining room hurried up, only to be chased away by the doorman.

Gharries were lined up beyond the door. Zircon hailed two, and they got in. The ancient horses trotted off, the boys following the scientists. Rick noted that the beggar boy was running up the street after them.

"Wonder what he wants?"

Scotty looked at the little brown figure. "I don't know what he wants, but I know what he needs: a bath." He grinned weakly. Nothing was very funny right now.

As they pa.s.sed through the heart of the city, Rick looked behind now and then. The beggar boy was still with them, running along about a block behind. Once, as they stopped for traffic, he almost caught up. Then they moved on and he was left behind again.

"Funny he should tag along like that," Rick commented.

They turned down Ballard Road and in a short while drew up before the building that flew the American flag.

As they went into the consulate, the beggar boy came trotting up. He took Zircon's coattail and tugged. "Please, Sahib! You listen?"

Zircon looked down absently. "Go away."

Then they were through the doors and the boy was left outside.

The American consular secretary listened to their story gravely, and made copious notes on his pad. "I'll do what I can," he promised. "It's too late to expect any action today, however." He glanced at his watch. "I'm afraid the police commissioner has been gone for some time, but I'll call his office. They may have a file on Conway. You'll hear from me in the morning."

As the others left, Rick lingered. "Can you change some money for me?"

"Of course." The secretary drew out neat packets of rupee notes and made change for Rick's American money. Rick thanked him and ran to join the others.

Out on the sidewalk, Scotty was waiting alone.

"The professors grabbed a gharry and headed for the Asiatic Geographical Union to talk with the people there. Then they're going to Captain Marks and see if he can help them get any more information out of Meekin."

"I'm afraid it won't do much good," Rick said unhappily. "h.e.l.lo - here's our friend."

The little beggar boy approached timidly, his brown face split by a white-toothed smile.

"h.e.l.lo, Sahibs," he greeted them.

"h.e.l.lo," Rick answered cautiously.

The native boy only came to Rick's shoulder, but on second glance appeared older than he had in the dining room. Rick guessed his age at about fifteen. He was dirty and ragged, but there was something about his face and his cheerful grin that appealed to Rick, and he smiled back.

The boy inspected Rick carefully, then turned his glance to Scotty while they waited good-naturedly to see what he wanted.

"These clothes much good, I think," the native boy said at last. "You buy clothes for me when I tell you a good thing?"

"It depends." Rick grinned. "What is it?"

"You buy me clothes," the native boy said, "and I take you to man which drives the truck with your boxes of stuffs!"

CHAPTER VII.

The Man in the Red Turban

"YOU'LL get the new suit," Rick promised. "Now start talking, young fella!"

"My name Chahda," the Hindu boy said. "It means number fo'teen my language. I am fo'teen child in my family."

"What do you know about our equipment?" Scotty asked impatiently.

"I am at dock when the s.h.i.+p comes," Chahda explained. "I see the boxes put on truck, and I see this man who drives, and I know him. He is not a good man, this one. He is a thief.

"I thinks there is dirty works," Chahda continued, "so I chase the truck. I see the Sahib be push off. Soon the truck goes fast-fast, and I not follow. I go to Green's Hotel, but the men do not let me talk with you."

"But you know where this driver lives?"

"Yes," Chahda a.s.sented.