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Owen Clancy's Happy Trail or, The Motor Wizard in California, a fiction by Burt L. Standish |
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Chapter 9. A Split In The Gang |
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_ CHAPTER IX. A SPLIT IN THE GANG Clancy had no confidence whatever in Burton. "I'm willing to hear what you've got to say, Burton," he said, "but whether I believe you or not, is another question." "You'll believe me, fast enough," was the confident response. "Down the street, a little way, is a place where we can talk." They walked down the street to a bench. The bench was in an obscure place, and the gloom of the eucalyptus trees surrounded it. Here, after they had seated themselves, Burton began his remarks. "I've been treated like a dip by Wynn and Katz," said he, "and I'm going to be square with you, Clancy, just to get even with them. When we lifted the fifteen thousand, at the time you were shot, we laid a bee line for Los Angeles. We've been there ever since, up to last Sunday morning. Gerald was bughouse on a gambling proposition, across the Mexican line. He heard of a stockholder he could buy out for fifteen thousand dollars, and that's what set him to working his brother for the money, in the first place. "Well, he was as close-fisted with that dinero as any miser you ever saw. I didn't have a cent in my pocket, and Gerald wouldn't give me any cash. He paid my expenses, but that was all. "Last Saturday he saw that mix-up at Sixth and Main, in Los Angeles, and he got the idea that Hill was trailing him. Of course, Gerald knows all about Hill's search for his lost father---" "Of course he does!" grunted Hiram. "There's a reason for that." "And he conceived the notion of sending Hill a letter and signing the name of Upton Hill to it," went on Burton. "The idea was to get Hill off of our trail, and we all reckoned the scheme had won out. I didn't know, until I looked up into the glass bottom of that boat, that Hill was within a hundred miles of Catalina Island! And I thought Clancy was still in Phoenix! Say, it was sure a big surprise to me." "That's what I reckoned," remarked Hill, with a chuckle. "I used to be swimming instructor in a gymnasium," proceeded Burton, "and as soon as we reached Avalon I made a deal with Mynie Boltwood, who owns a boat, and we took to snorkin' the tourists. Gerald was still the tightwad, and I couldn't live on prospects, no matter how rosy they might be. Sunday afternoon, while I was out diving, Gerald and Bob called on Lopez. I get it straight, from a fellow who knows, that Lopez told them the Fortunatus deal had fallen through. Right then and there is where those two skunks began to scheme to beat me out of my share of the swag we brought from Wickenburg." Burton fell silent for a moment, evidently reflecting on the great wrong that had been done him by his former pals. At last he resumed: "Wynn and Katz chartered the _Sylvia_ to take them down the coast. I was told that by Lopez, and I reckon he got it from Captain Hogan. Lopez--I saw him no more than half an hour ago--says Wynn and Katz are planning to cut loose from me, I've been a fool all along to let those two do all the schemin' and never put in my oar. But now I'm going to get busy." "You saw Lopez pretty soon after you gave us the slip at Sugarloaf Rock?" Clancy asked. "Quite a long time after that. I laid low in town until Mynie Boltwood brought me my clothes. You see, I was expecting every minute you'd have an officer on my trail, so I didn't stir around very much." "Lopez is a friend of yours?" "He's treated me white when he saw how I was being double-crossed by fellows I thought were my pards. Now, Clancy, here's a plan I've thought of: From all I can find out, Wynn and Katz haven't an idea you and Hill are up Avalon. Suppose we three go to their hang-out and jump them? We can do it, and recover the money. We'll have to be quick, though, and pull off the work before they leave in the _Sylvia._" "Where are Gerald Wynn and Bob Katz?" "Lopez says they're staying at Hogan's bungalow. I know where that is. Will you go?" Clancy hesitated. "You're afraid I'm working some underhand scheme, eh?" said Burton. "Well, forget it. All I want in this world is to break even with Wynn and Katz. Don't you believe what I've been telling you?" "You're a slippery customer," answered Clancy, "and you may be lying for the purpose of getting Hill and me into hot water." "Nothing to it. I tell you I'm square with you." "Let's try him once, Clancy," suggested Hill. "If it turns out to be a frame-up, Burton will be with us, and we can hand him a sample of our regards." "Very well," said the motor wizard. "Lead the way, Burton." Burton moved down the walk to the first cross street, proceeded halfway along the block, and halted in front of a small bungalow with a deep porch. "Here's where Captain Hogan stays when he's in Avalon and ashore," remarked Burton, in a guarded tone. "Can't see any light," murmured Hill. "Looks like the place was empty." "I should say, at a guess," put in Clancy, "that the captain is not at home. He may be aboard the _Sylvia._" "We're not looking for Hogan, but for Wynn and Katz," continued Burton. "I'll not leave this place until I investigate a bit." He began climbing the steps that led to the porch. Clancy was still very distrustful of Burton, and watched warily while following the fellow to the front door of the house. Burton seemed straight enough. With a soft hand he tried the door, and discovered it to be locked. Moving thence to a window that opened upon the porch, he tried to raise the lower sash. It was secured. "Maybe I can open the sash lock," he whispered to Clancy. "If it's the ordinary kind, a knife will do the trick." He took a jackknife from his pocket, opened a blade, thrust it upward between the upper and lower sash, and maneuvered for a minute or two. Finally he gave vent to a muttered word of satisfaction, closed the knife, and slipped it into his pocket. "Here's a little luck," said he. "We can open the window now." Noiselessly the lower sash was lifted, and the way into the bungalow was open. "You can stay here," whispered Burton, "or you can go with me. If you're afraid to trust me, I can look around and report what I find." "I'll go with you," returned Clancy. "I don't want to take your report about what you find, I want to see for myself." As carefully as possible they crawled through the window, and while they stood in the dark room at the front of the house. Hiram came through the opening and joined them. A noise reached their ears, as of heavy breathing. Hill caught Clancy's arm in a convulsive clutch. "There's some one in the place, all right!" said Burton, under his breath. "Strike a light," suggested the motor wizard. "I believe it's safe enough." "Here, let me," put in Hiram. "I've got a match right in my fingers." He scraped the match on the wall. As a flicker of light blazed up, a small, meagerly furnished front room was disclosed. Neither Captain Hogan nor either of those who had chartered his boat could be seen. Clancy stepped to a shelf on the side wall, and took down a candle in a candlestick. Hill touched the match to the wick, and the investigation continued under a better light. There was a door opening off the rear of the room. Burton glided to it and carefully pushed it ajar. Stygian darkness reigned beyond. The opening of the rear door had caused the heavy breathing to grow louder. The man--evidently the only one they were to find in the bungalow--must be in that back room. Clancy, with the candle, pushed into the lead, and entered the next apartment. Hill was watching Burton as keenly as a cat watches a mouse. At the first sign of a treacherous move, or the springing a trap, Hill would have been at Burton in a flash. Nothing occurred, however, to alarm the investigators. Something was discovered, on the other hand, which certainly, astounded them. A figure was lying on a cot bed--a figure that was bound wrist and ankle. A towel was tied over the face of the helpless form, and from behind this towel came the labored breathing which had already attracted attention. The candle revealed the gruesome situation dimly. There seemed no longer any good reason for silence, and startled exclamations dropped from the lips of the three investigators. "Black work has been going on here!" growled Burton. "Wonder if that's Hogan?" queried Clancy. "Whoever it is," spoke up Hill, "if that towel ain't removed he'll soon be smothered to death." As he spoke, he hastened to the head of the bed, turned the form slightly so he could untie the ends of the towel, and presently removed the suffocating gag. As the head of the bound man fell back on the pillow of the bed, his face was brought clearly into the full light of the candle. "By thunder!" gasped Clancy, startled. "What do you think of that?" murmured the bewildered Burton. "Katz, or I'm a Hottentot!" whispered Hill. There followed a few moments of silence, during which the three at the cotside exchanged wondering glances. Here was a situation which seemed incomprehensible to all of them. Katz's eyes were closed, and the breath came and went stertorously between his bloated lips. His face was puffed and of a purplish hue. "What's the matter with him?" queried Burton. "He came within one of being suffocated, that's all," Clancy answered. "Get the ropes off his hands and feet, so he'll be more comfortable. I don't think it will be long before he opens his eyes." The motor wizard was right. Hardly had Katz been freed of the ropes when his eyelids flickered wide open. He stared up dazedly into the faces bending over him. "Wynn!" he exclaimed, his wits wandering. "You're double-crossin' me, eh, same as we double-crossed Burton? You and Hogan are going to make off with the swag! Well, it won't do you no good, you can gamble on that. You'll be sorry you did this--some day--and---" Here his voice trailed off into incoherent mumbling. It was quite evident that there had been a bad "split" in the gang. _ |
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