The Mystery Message E-Book

T.C. Bridges

• Herausgeber: Ktoczyta.pl
• Kategorie: Fantasy und Science-Fiction
• Sprache: Englisch
• Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2019

Beschreibung

The early summer morning was warm and very quiet, and the only sound in the bare, barn-like room was the slow sucking of waves at the foot of the granite cliff on which it was built. On the table in the center of the room was a wireless device with five valves, the wires through which passed through the roof. Two thin cords dangled near the wires, the lower ends of which were within the reach of Jim Selvin, a tall, slender boy with a sharp face, who was sitting with headphones in his ears.

Leseprobe

Contents

CHAPTER I. STOLEN SIGNALS

CHAPTER II. NO ADMITTANCE!

CHAPTER III. PROFESSOR THOROLD EXPLAINS

CHAPTER IV. H.O.I.P

CHAPTER V. GADSDEN TRIES AGAIN

CHAPTER VI. THE LION'S DEN

CHAPTER VII. TAKING BIG RISKS

CHAPTER VIII. THE THIRD SHOT

CHAPTER IX. SAM TAKES A PRISONER

CHAPTER X. WHAT HAPPENED AT RIO

CHAPTER XI. THE LOCKED GATE

CHAPTER XII. THE WATCH-CAT

CHAPTER XIII. OFF AT LAST

CHAPTER XIV. THE FORD

CHAPTER XV. FACING TROUBLE

CHAPTER XVI. GAINING ON GADSDEN

CHAPTER XVII. A NASTY NIGHT

CHAPTER XVIII. THE LIVING DEATH

CHAPTER XIX. THE NIGHT-SEERS

CHAPTER XX. TWO GALLONS OF PETROL

CHAPTER XXI. THE SLEEPING SNAKE

CHAPTER XXII. A REARGUARD ACTION

CHAPTER XXIII. THE JEWELLED SUN

CHAPTER XXIV. WHEN THE STORM BROKE

CHAPTER XXV. THE BATTLE BEGINS

CHAPTER XXVI. PAYMENT IN FULL

CHAPTER I. STOLEN SIGNALS

THE early summer morning was warm and very still, and the only sound in the bare, shed-like room was the slow sucking of waves at the foot of the granite cliff on which it was built. On a table in the centre of the room stood a five- valve wireless set, the wires coming down through the slated roof. Beside the wires there dangled two thin cords, the lower ends of which were within reach of Jim Selwyn, the tall, slim, keen-faced boy who sat with the headphones over his ears.

The door of the workshop opened softly, and a second boy came in. He was a queer contrast to the first, for he was nearly as broad as he was tall, and, while Jim Selwyn had dark brown hair and very dark blue eyes, the hair on Sam Lusty’s square head was red as fire and his eyes were between green and grey. He was strong as a young bull, and a great deal more active than he looked.

“What are you getting, Jim?” he asked in a gruff voice.

Jim Selwyn looked round. “Not a thing, Sam,” he said ruefully. “None of these stupid fellows in the States will talk to me.”

Sam grunted. “I suppose you’re trying some of your funny games on ‘em,” he remarked.

“My dear Sam, I never try funny games,” Jim answered plaintively. “It’s true I’m using a rather extra short wave- length, but that ought to make it all the easier for them to get me. These Western chaps are all asleep.”

“If you can’t get West try East,” advised Sam.

“What’s the use of that?” retorted Jim. “The sun’s blazing all over Europe, and it isn’t likely that anyone there will be trying to talk. America is the only dark continent at this hour of the morning.”

There was a long wait, then at last Sam became impatient.

“Chuck it and come down to the beach for a swim,” he suggested. “It’s a proper nice morning.”

“In a minute. Just wait till I’ve given my aerial one more swing.” Taking hold of one of the cords, he began to pull it gently, and from above came a faint creaking as Jim’s frame aerial, an invention of his own, began to revolve slowly.

All of a sudden Jim let go of the cord, and Sam saw a startled expression cross his friend’s face. “What’s up?” he asked.

Jim’s arm shot out in a quick motion for silence, and for the next few moments the only sounds in the bare room were the sough of the sea on the cliff and a distant screaming of gulls. Then Jim looked round. “It’s an S.O.S. call,” he said sharply.

“Ship in trouble?” questioned Sam.

“No. Ships never use short wave-lengths.”

“Then where does it come from?”

“South America. It must be, for that’s where my aerial is turned. Wait! There it is again, plain as anything–three shorts, three longs, three shorts.”

Sam came nearer. “Can’t you get him, Jim–the chap that’s calling?”

“I’m jolly well going to try,” declared Jim. “Sit tight, Sam. This is either a hoax or something very queer.” As he spoke his fingers were busy on the buzzer in front of him, while Sam stood stolidly watching.

Suddenly Jim’s face lit up. “I’ve got him,” he said breathlessly. “Steady on! He’s telling me his wave-length. It’s twenty-seven metres.” His nimble fingers worked over the dials; then, when he had tuned in to the given length, he began to rattle out Morse. “It is from South America,” he said presently, “from Brazil. A chap called Alan Upton.”

“Brazil’s a whopping big place, ain’t it?” said Sam doubtfully, but Jim did not answer. He was listening and sending alternately, and Sam saw that he was frowning in puzzled fashion. It was nearly a quarter of an hour before he spoke again. “This is the rummiest go, Sam. Upton says he is speaking from a valley in Central Brazil, but he won’t tell me where it is.”

“Why not?”

“Says he dare not give it away because he doesn’t know who I am.”

“Can’t you tell him?”

“I have told him, but, of course, I’ve no proof to give him, and he’s scared stiff that the story may get into the wrong hands. And here’s the queerest thing of all. It’s Gadsden he’s afraid of.”

Sam’s eyes widened. “Not Mr Stephen Gadsden as lives here at Polcapple?”

“That’s the man,” replied Jim. “See here, Sam, so far as I can make out, this fellow Upton’s an explorer, and he’s got into some valley place right out in unknown country, and can’t get out without help.”

“But he’s loony,” said Sam. “How’s anyone going to help him if they don’t know where he is?”

“The man he wants to help him is Professor Thorold.”

“Who’s he?”

“A big gun in the science line. Great on archaeology.”

Sam frowned. “I wish you’d use words a fellow can understand,” he grumbled.

“Old cities and old peoples,” explained Jim. “Thorold lives near Appledore–at a place called Ludford. He’s Upton’s uncle, and Upton wants me to go and see him and fetch him here.”

“What’s the good of that?” demanded Sam. “Those signals you send might just as well be sent by Gadsden as by Thorold.”

“No. Thorold’s got a password, and as soon as Upton gets this word he will know who is speaking, and tell where he is and all about it.”

Sam stared. “What are you going to do?” he demanded.

“I’m going straight off to Ludford to see Professor Thorold.”

“The fare’s about twelve bob return,” said Sam, “and all we’ve got is three and a tanner.”

“I’ve got my bike,” Jim answered. “I can do it in the day.” He broke off short. “What was that?” he cried, and, springing up, dashed to the door, flung it open, and ran out.

Sam, hurrying after Jim, saw him bolting round the far end of the building, and met him coming back the other way. “You’ve got the jumps proper,” said Sam.

“Don’t talk rot,” Jim answered breathlessly. “I saw a face looking in at the window.”

“Whose face?” said Sam.

Before Jim could answer a sharp voice cut in. “What’s the matter?” it said. “What makes you boys run about like that? I’m sure you eat enough without taking more exercise than you need to.” The speaker was a tall, gaunt, vinegar-faced woman who had just come out from the back door of the house.

“It’s all right, Aunt Sarah,” said Sam. “We were chasing a tramp chap, that’s all.”

“Some one after my chickens, I’ll be bound,” exclaimed the woman. “Did you catch him?”

“No, he was too slick,” replied Sam. “But we’ve scared him off. Is breakfast ready?”

“Yes, it’s ready,” was the answer, “and mind you wipe your feet, and don’t bring mud into my nice clean kitchen.”

Breakfast was porridge and skim milk with one slice of bread and butter for each. Poor fare for growing lads, but Sam was accustomed to it, and Jim did not complain. The house, it was true, belonged to him, but that was all he owned in the world, and he was glad enough to get board and lodging from Sam’s aunt, Mrs Trant, as rental for the old place and the bit of land around it. Jim’s father had been killed in the Great War, his mother had died two years before this story opens, and, so far as he knew, he had no relations anywhere.

“Them early potatoes needs earthing up,” remarked Mrs Trant as she ladled out the porridge.

“I’ll see to ‘em, aunt,” said Sam. “Jim’s got a job on.”

“What sort of a job?” snapped Mrs Trant.

“He’s got to go to Appledore,” Sam answered.

Mrs Trant glared at Jim. “Appledore,” she repeated, “and where’s the money coming from, I’d like to know?”

“I’m going on my bicycle,” said Jim quietly.

“And what for?” she demanded.

“On business,” replied Jim, who was getting tired of this questioning.

“Wasting more money on that there wireless, I’ll be bound,” said Mrs Trant sourly. “I wish Parson would teach you something sensible. I’d have thought you was getting too old to play with toys.”

“Toys!” said Sam angrily, but Jim stopped him. “It’s all right, Sam. Some day Mrs Trant will find out that toys may be made to pay.”

Mrs Trant snorted, but said no more; and as soon as breakfast was over the boys hurried out to the shed where Jim kept his bicycle. Jim opened the door, then stopped short with a gasp.

“What’s up?” asked Sam.

Jim pointed to his bicycle. “Look at that!” he said, and Sam looked and whistled softly. The tyres had been slashed all to pieces, and hung in rags and ribands.

“This is a nice go,” said Sam. “Who could have done a dirty trick like that?”

“The chap I saw peering in at the window,” Jim answered bitterly.

“Aye, but who was he?” questioned Sam.

Jim looked round cautiously. “Gadsden,” he said in a whisper. Sam was too astonished to speak. He simply stood and stared. “Yes,” Jim went on, “I thought at the time that the face at the window was Gadsden’s, though I could hardly believe it, but now I’m getting the hang of it. He wants to stop me from going to Ludford.”

Sam collected his scattered senses. “But how would he know anything about it?” he asked. “What would bring him round here at such an hour in the morning?”

“Simple enough. He’s got a big wireless outfit and must have been listening in, like me, on a short wavelength, and have caught my sending.”

Sam gazed at his friend. “Then he’s got the whole thing,” he said slowly.

“No, only my Morse. Upton’s was so faint that no ordinary aerial would have caught it.”

Sam nodded. If he hadn’t much education he had heaps of common sense. “I see,” he said. “It was your new sort of wire cage that caught this message from Brazil.”

“That’s it, Sam,” Jim answered, “but if I’m right and Gadsden did get what I was sending he has heard quite enough to make certain where the message came from, and to know nearly as much as we do. Then he must have jumped on his bicycle and come here at once in the hope of hearing a bit more.”

“And that’s just what he did,” said Sam quickly. “He was listening while you told me all about it. I say, Jim, I didn’t think a lot of this at first, but if a man like Gadsden is so hot about it it must be a big thing.”

“A very big thing,” said Jim gravely. “It’s quite plain that we’ve got to get hold of Thorold as soon as ever we can. But now that my bicycle is done for how are we going to do it?”

Sam stood silent a moment, then brought his big hand down with a loud smack on his leg. “I’ve got it. We’ll take the boat,” he said.

The boat lay in a little creek, and Jim was getting her ready when Sam came running down. “There’s a car just gone from the big house,” he said. “It went north.”

Jim looked up quickly, “Gadsden in it?” he asked.

“Couldn’t see who was in it, but I reckon it was Gadsden all right. Likely he’s gone up to Ludford.”

Jim shook his head. “What would be the good? If Upton’s so scared of Gadsden’s getting to know where he is it’s not likely that Upton’s uncle is going to give Gadsden the code-word.”

“Aye, but suppose Gadsden tells Thorold that he’s the only chap who can help him to speak to Upton–what about that?”

Jim frowned. “That’s just what Gadsden might do. Then the sooner I get along the better.”

“That’s the ticket,” said Sam. “With the breeze that’s blowing we’ll be at Appledore before dark.”

“We,” repeated Jim. “You’re not coming.”

“Course I’m coming. You didn’t think I’d let you go alone?”

“But your aunt, Sam. She’ll make an awful fuss.”

“Let her. I’ve milked the cow, I’ve brought in sticks, and I’ve left a note to say I’ve gone. Do her good to have no one to scold for a day or two.”

Jim grinned as he hauled up the sail. Sam and he did all the work on the place, except the cooking, and got no thanks for it. He quite agreed with Sam that a few days by herself would not hurt Sam’s bad-tempered aunt.

A nice breeze was blowing from the south-west, and as it filled the sail the little boat heeled over, and went snoring away across the ripples at a fine speed. It was a perfect summer day, with only a few fleecy white clouds drifting across the blue sky, and even the huge, dark cliffs which towered to the right looked less grim than usual.

“Jim,” said Sam presently, “what makes Gadsden so hot about getting hold of this chap Upton?”

Jim shook his head. “It beats me, Sam. It’s a funny business any way you look at it.”

“A jolly fine business if you ask me,” returned Sam.

Jim opened his eyes. “Whatever do you mean?” he asked.

“Why, that Professor Thorold may be just the chap to give you a leg up with this wire thing you’ve invented.”

“My new aerial, you mean. But when I told Gadsden about it he said it was no good.”

“Jealous, I reckon,” said Sam scornfully. “Haven’t you proved it’s good by getting on to this fellow thousands o’ miles away in Brazil? I’ll lay Gadsden’s kicking himself that he didn’t buy it off you.”

“I didn’t want to sell,” said Jim. “I only wanted to know if I could patent it.”

“Of course you could,” declared Sam. “Why, it’s wonderful! You’ve explained it all to me a dozen times over, and I don’t know a thing more about it than when you started.”

Jim burst out laughing, and then stopped short for fear he might hurt dear old Sam’s feelings. But he need not have worried, for Sam was not looking at or listening to him. His eyes were fixed upon a long, dark craft that had just come into sight to the southward and was following dead in their wake. Sam’s lips moved. “A launch,” he said softly.

“Gadsden’s launch,” said Jim, “and coming like smoke. But who’s in it if Gadsden was in that car you saw?”

“Wish I knew,” said Sam, “but one thing’s sure. That launch is chasing us.”

“She’ll catch us, too,” Jim answered. “Look at the feather of foam under her bows. She’s moving pretty near twice as fast as we are.”

CHAPTER II. NO ADMITTANCE!

THERE was a thoughtful frown upon Sam’s square face as he gazed at the launch. “If it’s Gadsden in that craft what do you reckon he’s going to do to us, Jim?” he asked.

Jim stared. “Why, stop us, of course, you juggins. Surely you see that he can’t let us reach Thorold!”

“Aye, but it’s against the law to stop anyone like that,” said Sam.

“Much he’d care for that,” jeered Jim. “Anyhow, there isn’t a vessel of any sort in sight, so there’s nothing to stop him from doing as he likes.”

Sam nodded. “Then it’s up to us to save ourselves the best way we can,” he said. “I’ll take the tiller, Jim, if you please.”

“What good will that do?” demanded Jim. “Your steering won’t make the boat sail any faster.”

“Maybe not,” said Sam peacefully, “but I can try.”

“You’re crazy,” grumbled Jim, but all the same he shifted forward, and Sam took the tiller. The breeze had stiffened, and the boat was moving at very near her top speed, but even that was not much compared with the pace at which the long, low launch was racing up behind. Sam glanced once more at the launch, then looked eastward toward the land, where a long point runs out into the sea. Sharpstone Point it is called, and at its seaward end the waves break white among shoals and sandbanks. At once Sam pulled the tiller over and turned the bow of the boat toward the Point.

“You’re not going to land?” exclaimed Jim in dismay.

“Not unless we got to,” replied Sam, and held on his course.

Jim shrugged his shoulders, but said no more. He himself was a pretty good hand with a boat, but he was not ashamed to own that Sam was better. Sam’s father had been skipper of a coasting schooner and been drowned at sea, and Sam had sailed since he could walk. With the breeze almost astern, the boat travelled at a great rate toward the Point, but Jim, watching the launch, saw that she too had changed course and was following them. There was no longer any doubt in his mind that she was chasing them.

As the little boat raced in toward the Point the roar of surf became louder, but Sam held on serenely, driving straight toward the tumble of broken water.

At last Jim could keep silence no longer. “Are you trying to drown us, Sam?” he demanded.

“Why, no,” replied Sam. “I wasn’t thinking of that.”

“You jolly well will if you hold on much longer. The moment we touch ground we shall swamp.”

“I wasn’t reckoning to touch ground,” said Sam. “With the tide as it is, there’s three foot o’ water in the Crooked Channel.”

“Man alive, you’re not going to try the Crooked Channel!”

“Why not?” asked Sam. “It’ll save us all of two miles, and give us that much start of Gadsden.”

“I’d have brought a life-belt if I’d known,” said Jim grimly.

“You won’t need no life-belt,” Sam assured him, and just then the boat lifted to a big wave, and Jim held his breath as she swooped toward a patch of weed-hung rock bared by the falling tide. But Sam was quite cool, and with a quick twist of the tiller wrenched the boat round. She cleared the reef by less than half her length, and the spray broke over her in sheets as she breasted a second wave, then shot deftly into calmer water.

“Close call,” muttered Jim, who was feeling rather shaky, but Sam merely hauled in the sheet and with his eyes fixed on the narrow line of blue water sent the boat flying up the Channel. It wound in and out among reefs and sandbanks, twisting in most confusing fashion, and the roar of the waves breaking over the shoals was deafening, but Sam paid no attention to the noise or the spray and held on his course quite steadily. After a minute or two Jim began to feel better–so much better that he dared to take his eyes off the Channel and glance back at the launch. He gave a gasp of dismay. “Sam, she’s following us.”

“I reckoned she would,” Sam answered calmly.

“Then we’re taking all this risk for nothing,” said Jim bitterly.

“Sit tight,” said Sam, and, as there was nothing else to do, Jim took the advice. The launch was tearing up behind, gaining fast, and as she came closer Jim saw that Gadsden himself was steering. Gadsden was a tall, powerfully built man with a sallow, clean-shaven face and a big hawk nose, and he handled the launch with skill. Being much bigger than the sailing-boat, and well decked in forward, the launch made much better weather of it than the boat, and Jim’s heart sank as he saw her shoot safely into the south end of the Channel. “If he catches us here we’re in for trouble,” he murmured to himself, and just then Sam swung the boat round another curve into a broader part of the Channel, and Jim’s heart was in his mouth as he felt her keel grate against the sand. But it was only a touch, and she drove on in safety. Yet the launch gained fast, and soon was so close that Jim could actually see Gadsden’s face and that of the man with him. He recognized the latter as Simon Harth, Gadsden’s chauffeur, a small, wiry fellow who was always known as Silent Harth. He was of the old Cornish mining stock, almost as dark as a Spaniard, and with close-cut, curly black hair. The tide was running down the Channel from the north, and this told against the boat. What was worse, the wind was failing. “Better stop!” shouted Gadsden, his big voice rising above the roar of the surf. “You can’t get away.”

“He’s right, Sam,” said Jim. “He’ll be up with us in less than three minutes.”

“Maybe,” replied Sam briefly, but so far from stopping he hauled in the sheet and kept the boat on her course.

“Stop!” roared Gadsden angrily. “You’ve given me quite enough trouble already, and if I lose my temper–” What the threat was Jim did not hear, for in the very middle of the sentence the bow of the launch suddenly shot upward, jerking Gadsden back against the stern with a force that must have knocked the breath out of him. As for Harth, he did a sort of back somersault into the bottom of the boat, and lay with his legs in the air.

“She’s aground,” shouted Jim, “hard aground.”

“About time too,” grunted Sam, “and with the tide running down it’ll be pretty near five this evening before she gets off again.”

The breeze remained fair, and there was plenty of it, so the rest of the journey was made at a good pace and without any trouble. The sun was still high in the sky when Sam pointed to a great wall of stones which the sea has piled up all across the front of what was once a big bay, but is now the Westward Ho! Golf Links. “There’s the Pebble Ridge,” he said. “Appledore’s just beyond.”

“A jolly good trip, Sam,” declared Jim. “It’s not five o’clock yet.”

Sam chuckled. “Gadsden’s launch is just beginning to float,” he said.

“But what about that car of his?” asked Jim uneasily. “It must have got here by this time.”

“Yes, that’s likely at Thorold’s, but whoever the chap is that Gadsden sent I reckon we can put a spoke in his wheel.”

The breeze was blowing fresh, and the boat lay over and spun along at a round pace. Jim was watching the shore when he noticed two boys running along the beach, waving their arms and shouting. “What’s up with those chaps, Sam?” he said. “I can’t hear what they say, but it looks to me as if they were signalling to us.”

“Likely it’s some trick of Gadsden’s man,” growled Sam, holding to his course. But Jim jumped up, and, stepping forward into the bow, stood holding on to the mast and looking at the two boys on the beach. Both were close to the water’s edge, and one was flinging off his clothes. The other was waving wildly and pointing out to sea. Suddenly Jim gave a shout. “There’s a chap in trouble in the water. Over there, Sam. I can just see his head.”

“Right!” said Sam briefly, and at once turned the boat in the direction where Jim and the boy ashore were pointing. He and Jim could just see a head bobbing among the waves and two arms beating the water. Their owner had evidently been caught by the tide and was being swept out to sea.

“Quick, Sam!” cried Jim. “Quickly, or we’ll be too late. He’s going under.”

“Doing all I know,” said Sam. The boat lay right over, but, just before she reached the spot where the swimmer was struggling, he flung up his arms and vanished.

Jim did not hesitate for a second. He already had his coat and boots off, and now he made a great jump and, striking the water within a few yards of the spot where the swimmer had disappeared, dived. Sam flung the boat up into the wind, hauled down the sail, and got out the sculls. Quick as he was, the boat had drifted some distance, and he was pulling desperately back when he saw Jim’s head bob up nearly fifty yards away. There was a sharp little sea running, and Sam, glancing over his shoulder, saw that Jim had hold of the other fellow, but was having his work cut out to keep him up. Each wave broke over his head, and he was swimming with one arm only.

Sam pulled like a fury and was in time, but only just in time. He grabbed Jim by the collar of his shirt just as he was sinking, and got him to the boat. “Get this fellow in,” panted Jim. “I can hang on.”

The chap Jim had rescued was a tall lad of sixteen or seventeen, and, strong as he was, it was all Sam could do to haul him in over the stern, and by the time he got Jim aboard the boat was half full of water. Jim set to baling, and Sam pulled for the beach.

“Good for you,” cried one of the boys on the beach, as he waded out and laid hold of the boat. “I say, you are toppers. We thought poor old Greg was done for.”

“He’s coining round,” said Jim. “Do you chaps know anything about first aid?”

“Yes, luckily we know all about that,” was the answer as the two boys, both nice-looking lads, lifted their friend out and carried him ashore.

“Then that’s all right, Sam,” said Jim. “And we’d best shift along. We haven’t any time to waste.” Sam merely nodded, and in another minute they were bearing up for Appledore.

“Not cold, are you, Jim?” asked Sam.

“Nothing to speak of,” replied Jim, who had stripped and was wringing the water out of his clothes. “Soon get warm, walking up to the house.” The rest of the journey went smoothly, and twenty minutes later the boat was berthed by the quayside at Appledore, and the two boys, having asked the way to Ludford, set out to walk briskly up the road.

Ludford was about a mile out of the town, and when they reached it they found it to be a big, square, comfortable-looking house standing among some fine trees a little way back from the road.

“I don’t see a car,” said Jim as they reached the door. “I wonder if Gadsden’s chap is ahead of us.”

“We’ll soon know,” replied Sam briefly as he put his finger on the bell-push. Almost at once the door was opened by a stout, sleek-headed little man dressed in blue serge, who looked the two boys up and down with a very scornful air. “Ho, so you’ve come!” he remarked sharply.

Jim, conscious of his sopping clothes and rather disreputable appearance, got a bit red, but Sam was equal to the occasion. “As you ain’t blind, you can see for yourself we’ve come,” he answered. “Now maybe you’ll tell who you think we are.”

“We know all right who you are,” returned the other significantly, “and you’d best make yourself scarce before I ‘phone for the police.”

Jim pulled himself together. “You can call the police if you wish to,” he said with dignity, “but, as we have done nothing wrong, I can’t see what you want them for. We have called to see Professor Thorold.”

“Well, you won’t see Professor Thorold,” was the curt answer, and with that the sleek-headed man slammed the door in their faces.

Sam looked at Jim in blank amazement. “The chap’s loony,” he said.

“Not he!” replied Jim. “Gadsden’s man has got ahead of us, and warned them all against us.”

Sam pursed his lips in a mournful whistle. “So that’s how the land lies,” he said slowly.

CHAPTER III. PROFESSOR THOROLD EXPLAINS

JIM stood gazing at the closed door, frowning slightly. “We’ve got to get hold of Thorold some way or another,” he said slowly. “I suppose we shall just have to hang round and wait.”

Sam shook his head. “That’s no use. Even if he’s in the house, it isn’t likely he’ll come out again this evening. We might have to wait all night.”

“Then we jolly well will wait all night,” replied Jim doggedly. When roused Jim could be very determined.

“You won’t, anyway,” retorted Sam. “You’re wet through, and if you stayed out all night like as not you’d be dead by morning.”

“Not me!” returned Jim. “I’m a lot tougher than you think, Sam, and anyhow I’m bound to see this Professor person some way or another. Why, Gadsden himself may be here to-morrow.”

Before Sam could answer the door was flung open again, and the sleek-headed man stepped out into the porch. “Clear out!” he ordered angrily. “You’re trespassing on private property, and that’s something you can be took up for. If you aren’t outside the front gate in two minutes I give you my word I’ll ring up the police.” Jim jumped forward. “I’ve come fifty miles to see Professor Thorold, and it’s frightfully urgent,” he said earnestly. “Ask him to come to the door to speak to me for just a minute. That can’t hurt anyone.”

The sleek-headed man looked at Jim. “What’s it about?” he asked curtly.

“His nephew,” Jim answered quickly. “His nephew in Brazil. I have a message from him for Professor Thorold.”

A grin curled the lips of the sleek-headed man. “So that’s the game, is it?” he jeered. “Then I’ll tell you that we’ve had the message already, and the gentleman who brought it warned Mr Thorold as you two lads was coming after with some lying story. Now get right out, and my advice to you is to go back quick where you came from before you get into real trouble.”

Jim’s temper was hot, and, though he generally had it under control, now it cracked. “You idiot!” he cried, jumping forward. “It’s the first man was lying, not we. Let me see the Professor for one minute, and I’ll convince him.”

“You’ll see the inside of Barnstaple Police Station–that’s what you’ll see,” retorted the other, and as he spoke his hand shot out and, striking Jim in the chest, sent him spinning back. If Sam had not caught him he would have fallen on the gravel. Then for a second time the door crashed to.

Sam, usually so placid, was raging. “Come out!” he roared. “Come out, you bully. I’ll fight you.”

“Stop it, Sam,” said Jim sharply. “That sort of thing won’t help. It serves me right for losing my temper and abusing the man. After all he was only doing his duty. No doubt he had his orders from the Professor.” Sam was still breathing hard. “He hadn’t no business to hit you,” he said, “I’m going to break that door down.”

“Then we’ll both really go to prison,” said Jim.

“Sober down, Sam. It’s our wits, not our muscles, we’ve got to use.”

“How’ll wits help us?” asked Sam almost sulkily. “The door’s shut, and, unless we can get through it, we can’t see the Professor. And if we don’t see him we might as well let the whole business slide. After all, why shouldn’t we? We’re not getting anything out of it.”

Jim shook his head. “We can’t let it slide, Sam,” he said. “It wouldn’t be playing the game. This chap Upton’s in trouble, and it’s up to us to give him a hand. See here. We’ll go to the village to get something to eat, then we’ll come back here and hang round. It’s a fine night, and most likely some of them will be out in the garden, and then we can catch them.” He turned as he spoke, and Sam followed silently.

Just as they reached the gate it opened, and three young fellows came through. The moment they saw Jim and Sam they stopped, “Why, here they are!” exclaimed one of them in a tone of great surprise. He ran forward. “You beauties!” he cried, laughing. “We’ve been combing the whole town for you.”

Jim stared a moment, then suddenly recognized the other. It was the same fair-haired youngster who had pointed out the boy who was drowning. And, of the rest, one was his friend, the other the rescued boy.

The fair-haired boy seized Jim’s hand. “Here he is, Greg. Here’s your rescuer. Say thank you nicely.”

The boy called Greg stepped forward quickly. “You might have given me the chance before,” he said in a rather hurt voice. “I should have been drowned for a dead cert if you hadn’t been so jolly smart.”

“I–I’m awfully glad we happened to be there,” replied Jim, rather confused.

“Lots of people might have been where you were without doing me any good,” returned Greg. “It was your diving and the way your pal handled the boat that saved me. I do think you might have waited till I came round so that I could have had a chance to thank you.”

“You were in good hands,” said Jim. “And Lusty and I were in a big hurry.”

“Lusty’s his name, is it? A jolly good one too,” said Greg. “Took a lusty chap to lug a great lump like me into a small boat.” He grabbed Sam’s hand as he spoke, and shook it heartily. “Now I’d like to know your name,” he said to Jim.

“Selwyn–Jim Selwyn,” replied Jim smiling. He liked this pleasant, cheery-faced young fellow.

“Well, I can’t help how busy you are, Selwyn,” said Greg. “You and Lusty have got to come up to the house and meet my dad.”

Sam spoke up. “Is this your house?” he demanded sharply.

“Why–yes,” replied Greg, rather surprised at Sam’s tone. “Any objection?”

“Only we’ve just been chucked out of it,” said Sam gruffly.

“Been chucked out of it?” repeated Greg in amazement, and his two friends looked equally surprised.