Chapter III: Double-Trouble
Carl and Dick, on the levee, gazed dumfounded at the points in the press of vehicles where the carriage had disappeared, and then faced the other way and peered at the chagrined policeman, the blackened and smoking cotton bale, and the loungers who were crowding about the officer. The roustabouts had all gone back to their work.
"Pinch me, vonce!" begged Carl. "I bed you I vas ashleep, Tick."
"Blow me tight!" murmured Dick hazedly. "I feel as though I'd had a nightmare myself. I never thought it was in Matt to act like that, even if he _was_ playing a part. I hate to think hard things about my old raggie, Motor Matt, but----"
"Don'd!" cut in Carl. "Vait und gif him a chance to oxblain. He vill come pack und tell us somet'ing----"
"Hello, there, you fellows! Where have you been?"
As this familiar voice rang out, Carl and Dick whirled in a panic. Motor Matt, in leather cap and jacket, trim and neat as ever, was hastening toward them across the levee.
Dick staggered and threw a hand to his head. Carl, likewise, was at a loss for words. Here was Motor Matt, running toward them across the levee, when, by rights, he should have been a good way off in a carriage, getting clear of a pot of trouble which he had set a-boiling.
The policeman, catching sight of Matt, rushed toward him, the crowd at his heels. That brought Carl and Dick to a full realization of what was going on.
"We made a bobble!" cried Dick.
"Yah, so helup me!" agreed Carl; "der vorst popple vat iss. Und dot bolicemans iss some more."
The boys darted toward the officer and Matt.
"I've got you now, my lad," growled the officer, as the boys came up. "You can't fool me by getting into another outfit o' clothes. Your face is a dead giveaway."
Matt looked his surprise.
"You've made some mistake, officer," he answered. "What's wrong?"
"Oh, he don't know a thing!" cried one of the bystanders scoffingly.
"He's fergot all about burnin' that 'ar cotton bale," said another.
"A blame' quick change he made, anyhow," put in a third.
"I don't understand you," said Matt. "I just came from Stuyvesant Dock----"
"D'you mean to say you wasn't here a few minutes ago, shufflin' around, smokin' a cigarette----"
"I don't smoke cigarettes," broke in Matt, "and I wasn't here a few minutes ago. I've been with the air ship, over on the dock, for the last hour."
"Ye was right here fer an hour," declared one of the loungers. "I seen ye."
"I can easily disprove that," temporized Matt. "Go and talk with the watchman on the dock, officer. He will tell you that I have been with him for an hour."
The policeman, as well as the others, was in a quandary. Matt's whole manner was different from that of the youth whose cigarette had set fire to the cotton bale. His talk was different, too, and there was nothing "chesty" or insolent about him.
"What's the trouble, pards?" asked Matt, appealing to Carl and Dick. "I'm all at sea over this. When I got to Stuyvesant Dock, an hour ago, the watchman there told me that you boys had gone off somewhere on a hurry-up call. I waited for you to come back, and then, when I saw the smoke of the burning cotton bale, I started for here."
"The trouble is deeper than I think any of us can fathom," muttered Dick. "Strike me lucky, mate, but there was a swab here who was the very picture of you--in the face, mind, for his get-up was altogether different. Carl and I was fooled, for we were dead sure the other swab was you. That other fellow was smoking a cigarette, and that's what set fire to the bale."
Dick faced the policeman.
"Hands off of him, officer," said he. "This isn't the chap you want. He's Motor Matt--everybody up and down the river front has heard of Motor Matt and his chums, and of the air ship."
"I'm dashed if I can savvy this," murmured the perplexed officer, "but I'm going to the Stuyvesant Dock with you and see if the watchman will set me right. He's a friend o' mine, the watchman is, and he'll give it to me straight."
When Matt, Carl, Dick, and the officer started for the Stuyvesant Dock, they left the crowd behind.
"I went over town, just at the beginning of the forenoon," said Matt, "and when I got back to the air ship the watchman said that a man had come there and asked for me. As I wasn't around, the watchman told me you and Carl had answered the summons, Dick. Where did you go?"
"The man who came was Cassidy, Townsend's mate on the _Grampus_," answered Dick. "He said Townsend was out on Prytania Street, and he gave me the number of the house. Cassidy said the business was important, so Carl and I got on a street car and went to the place. Townsend is sick a-bed----"
"Sick?" queried Matt.
"Aye, and can't move. The trouble he had with Jurgens and Whistler was the cause of it, Townsend thinks. But we couldn't do the business for you--it's you, and no one else, that Townsend wants. He gave us a letter for you and wants you to call on him at midnight, to-night."
"What for?"
"He wouldn't tell us, but said he had explained that in the letter."
"Where's the letter?"
There was a silence while the little group tramped over the planks in the direction of Stuyvesant Dock.
"Oh, dowse me," muttered Dick. "I feel like thirty cents!"
"I feel lesser as dot," chimed in Carl.
"What happened to the letter?" queried Matt.
"You see, matey," explained Dick, very much crestfallen, "when Carl and I saw that other fellow on the levee, we were sure he was you."
"But he was dressed differently."
"Aye, aye, that's true enough, but we thought you were keeping tab on somebody and had put on those clothes in order to do it."
Matt laughed.
"You fellows must be locoed!" he exclaimed. "What reason have I to go into the detective business?"
"Ve ditn't know dot," observed Carl, "but ve vas sure dot odder feller vas you. Anyvay, Tick vistled ad him, laidt der ledder on der cotton bale, und ven der feller came for it, den, py shinks, his sigaroot sed der pale afire. Aber he got der ledder, und some feller run avay mit him in a puggy. Der boliceman hat tried to arresdt der feller, aber he slipped glear. Ach, himmelblitzen, vat a pad pitzness!"
"We didn't have a hap'orth o' sense," added Dick gloomily.
By then the little party was close to the air ship. The watchman was within hail, and a few words from him satisfied the policeman.
"Sorry I bothered you, Motor Matt," apologized the officer, "but you're a dead ringer for that other chap--which is more credit to him than it is to you. He's your double, all right, and I hope you get back your letter."
The policeman went one way, the watchman another, and Matt led his chums to one side, where they could have a little private talk by themselves.
His face was grave as he asked them to begin at the beginning and give him all the facts, once more.
The ground was thrashed over pretty thoroughly, Matt putting questions from time to time that brought out even the apparently insignificant details. When the explanations were done a silence fell over the chums. Dick was first to speak.
"Keelhaul me," he observed, in deep contrition, "neither Carl nor I seem able to do a thing right when you're not around."
"I'm not finding any fault with you, pards," returned Matt. "Even the officer was fooled, so it is quite natural that you should have made the mistake. Give me that number on Prytania Street. I'd better hike right out there and have Townsend tell me what was in the letter."
"It would be a wrong move, mate."
"How so?"
"Townsend said the matter was of the utmost importance----"
"All the more reason why I should find out about it as soon as possible!"
"But he insisted that you wasn't to come to him until midnight, to-night."
"He don't know the letter has got into wrong hands."
"Sure he don't, but he's afraid the house where he is is being watched, and we were to tell you to come around the back way and knock at the rear door. I'm a Fiji if I know what's up, but Townsend was mighty particular that you shouldn't come until midnight."
Matt was thoughtful for a space.
"They say that every one has a double," he remarked, with a half laugh, "and it begins to look as though my double had shown up. This double-trouble was something I never expected to run into, but it's come and we'll have to see it through. Townsend didn't give you a hint as to what he wanted me for?"
"Never a hint," answered Dick. "He was mighty close about it."
"Well," decided Matt, "I'll be at that house in Prytania Street on the stroke of twelve, to-night. Let's feel as easy as we can about that letter, and go and get some supper."
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Motor Matt's Promise; or, The Wreck of the HawkChapter III: Double-Trouble
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