“Hullo!” he exclaimed as the autos rolled over the apron and onto the wharf, “there’s Fred Reade.”
He indicated the occupant of the other car, who seemed to have taken so much interest in the Chester boys and Eben Joyce, their aged companion.
CHAPTER IV.
THIEVES IN THE NIGHT
The other occupants of the auto were a man with a heavy red beard and a nervous, alert little man whom Billy said was an aviator named Slade.
“That’s queer to see Reade over here. I wonder what he can be doing,” said Billy, as the two autos left the shed and emerged into the street.
Neither of the boys could, of course, hazard a guess, but had they known it the mission of the reporter who had betrayed the Planet was more nearly concerned with them than they imagined. The car in which Reade was seated seemed a more powerful machine than the one the boys occupied and it soon left them behind. They thought no more of the chance encounter and soon arrived at the home of Eben Joyce, a comfortable cottage on the heights overlooking the “meadows” on one side and the North river on the other.
They were greeted by the inventor’s daughter, who seemed much disturbed.
“Oh, I am so glad you have come!” she exclaimed, after she had invited the little party in.
“Why, what has happened?” asked Frank.
“I will tell you,” she said, while they all leaned forward deeply interested. “This afternoon I was called to the door by a man in ragged clothes who begged me for something to eat. My father has told me never to let anyone go away hungry, so I told the servant to give the man some food. I thought no more of the matter till, on looking out of the window, I saw the man who had asked for charity going toward the old barn out there that my father used as a workshop.”
Old Mr. Joyce became greatly excited. It was evident he feared some harm had come to his collection of scientific instruments and plans for inventions which he housed there for lack of room in the house.
“Yes, yes, go on,” he exclaimed, quivering with agitation.
“He was fumbling with the lock when I looked up and saw him. I shouted to him to know what he was doing. His reply was to instantly stop what he was at and run toward the front of the house. I opened the door just in time to see him leap into an automobile in which were two other men, and they drove off.”
“A tramp in an automobile; that’s funny,” commented Frank.
“Indeed it is. In fact, I recollect thinking at the time that he asked me for food that his manner was too refined to be that of a genuine tramp.”
“What did he look like?” asked Harry.
“He was tall and had a big red beard. That is all I am able to recollect of him.”
“Sounds like the man we saw in Reade’s auto,” exclaimed Harry.
“Can Fred Reade have anything to do with this mysterious happening?” asked Billy.
“Eh, say that name again, young man,” demanded the inventor, who was, besides being often preoccupied, somewhat deaf and so had not heard Billy mention the other’s name when they were in the auto.
“I said Fred Reade,” rejoined Billy. “Why, do you know him?”
“I do, and I know no good of him,” was the reply. “It was he that first approached me in connection with the sale of the Buzzard to Luther Barr and – ”
“Luther Barr again. We seem to cross his trail all the time,” exclaimed Frank.
“Eh?” questioned the old man, his hand at his ear, trumpet-wise.
“I said we have heard of Luther Barr before, as you know,” said Frank, “but you never mentioned the fact that Reade had acted for him.”
“It must have slipped my mind in the excitement,” explained the old man. “Yes, Fred Reade has acted for Barr in many matters that I know of.”
“A sort of agent of his,” said Billy.
“More than that,” rejoined old Eben Joyce; “there is some mysterious tie between them. I think Reade knows something about Luther Barr that the other is afraid will come out.”
“How is that?” asked Frank.
“I don’t know, but such is my impression. At the time of the negotiation for the Buzzard Reade treated Barr as an equal more than if he were employed by him.”
It had grown dusk by this time and Eben Joyce’s daughter lit the lamp and set it down on the cottage table. As she did so there came a loud roar of an approaching motor car down the quiet street and the next moment through the gathering gloom a big auto approached the cottage. As it neared it it slowed down. They all went out on the porch to see who could be driving a car down that little frequented street. It was not very light, but as the car drew nearer Frank recognized it.
“That’s Fred Reade’s auto,” he cried.
But if the boys imagined that they were to get any solution of the car’s mysterious appearance they were mistaken. As it neared the house, and the group on the porch must have been plainly visible to its occupants, the big car suddenly leaped forward and shot away into the darkness.
“What did they do that for?” asked Billy.
“I guess they saw so many if us here that they thought it would be more prudent to stay away,” suggested Frank.
“What can they be after?” wondered Harry.
“The blue prints of my gyroscopic attachment and possibly my experimental machine itself,” declared the inventor, “though if they had the blue prints they could easily manufacture them themselves. Reade has been after me to sell them.”
“That is so,” mused Frank; “undoubtedly such prints would be of great value to them.”
“Will you do something for me?” inquired old Eben Joyce, suddenly.
“Of course,” rejoined Frank; “what is it?”
“Will you take charge of my blue prints for me. It is lonely here and I am old and my daughter unprotected. In case they attacked us in the night we should have little opportunity to keep the prints from them. I would feel quite secure if you had them in your possession, however.”
Frank readily agreed to this, adding that he would place them in a safe deposit vault.
“I shall rest much easier if you would,” said the old inventor. “Bad as they are, I don’t think the men would hurt us; all they are after is the plans and I really dare not have them about here another night.”
It was an hour later when, with the plans safely tucked away in an inside pocket of Frank’s coat, the boys started back for town.
“If you feel at all nervous we will telephone home and stay here with you,” Frank offered before they left.
“Oh, not at all,” exclaimed old Joyce, who was already busy figuring a new problem. “I have a revolver and I will communicate with the police about my fears. I shall be all right.”
With hearty good nights the boys’ car swung off, its headlights glowing brightly. They sped along through the outskirts of Jersey City and were about to leave the lonely, badly-lighted section through which they had been passing when suddenly a figure stepped full into the path of light cast ahead of them.
The sudden apparition of the night was waving a red lantern.
“Stop! there’s danger ahead!” it shouted.
“Danger, what sort of danger?” asked Frank, nevertheless bringing the car to a stop.
“Why, there’s an excavation ahead. Ah! that’s right, you’ve stopped. Now then, young gentlemen, just step out of the petroleum phaeton and fork over the contents of your pockets.”
“What,