<h2 id='chap22'>CHAPTER XXII</h2>
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<div>QUEER PROCEEDINGS</div>
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<p class='c011'>Hiram and Bruce talked of many matters the
rest of that day. The former was proud and elated
over his success, and Bruce would not discount the
greatness of his friend’s feat.</p>
<p>“You beat them all put together,” he told Hiram.
“I heard two men talking with one of the committee
near the grand stand. I think they had something
to do with the government postal service.”</p>
<p>“They can’t hire me away from Dave,” observed
Hiram with a wink and a laugh.</p>
<p>“Well, they asked the committee man for the
names of the crew of the <i>Scout</i> and took them
down.”</p>
<p>“Oh, it wasn’t much,” insisted Hiram. “All I’m
glad for is that it gives us twenty more points. I
feel safe now.”</p>
<p>“What with the big event, the long distance
stunt, ahead?”</p>
<p><span class="pagenum" title='164' id='Page_164'></span>“There hasn’t been a second that Mr. Brackett
and Dave have not counted on the <i>Ariel</i> winning
that particular event,” declared Hiram.</p>
<p>“It’s to-morrow; isn’t it?” asked Bruce. “I
hope we have a fine day.”</p>
<p>The conversation took place just before dusk.
Then Mr. Brackett and Dave called Hiram into the
little office of the hangar to go over some details
of the morrow’s race. Bruce got through with some
cleaning work about the <i>Scout</i>, put on his coat and
passed by the hangar entrance.</p>
<p>“Say, you go down to the restaurant and wait
for me,” spoke Hiram, appearing in the doorway.
“I’ll be along in about fifteen minutes.”</p>
<p>“All right,” assented Bruce, and he started across
the grounds, whistling cheerily.</p>
<p>It was wonderful the change that had taken
place in the appearance and fortunes of the orphan
lad, since his first chance acquaintance with Hiram
Dobbs, and later with Dave Dashaway. As he proceeded
to the restaurant, free, well dressed, with
money in his pocket and all worry about his little
sister Lois gone, Bruce felt like a new being.</p>
<p>“If ever a fellow was grateful I am!” he soliloquized.
“Those two friends have not only asked
me to stay with them, but really want me to do it.
Even Mr. Brackett has taken a liking to me. He
told Mr. Dashaway to put me on the pay roll at ten
dollars a week, and I’m a part of all this great bustle
and excitement going on here. And that scheme
of mine—the diamonds!”</p>
<p><span class="pagenum" title='165' id='Page_165'></span>The speaker’s eyes sparkled. He had not told
Hiram everything about them—an interruption had
diverted into business channels a conversation they
were holding. Then the winning of the mail bag
contest had put everything else out of the head of
the proud young pilot of the <i>Scout</i> for the time
being.</p>
<p>Bruce had not taken the diamond stick pins found
in the little biplane to the police. He had ferreted
around and had located the people from whom they
were stolen. The robbery had taken place at a large
jewelry store. Bruce had called upon its proprietor.</p>
<p>The latter regarded him at first with some suspicion,
for Bruce was guarded, and felt his way
cautiously. He produced the diamonds he had
found, and told his story.</p>
<p>“Why—I’ve come to you, is because I’m willing
to give some time to hunting for the rest of those
diamonds if you say the word,” he had told the
jeweler. “I’ve got some ideas. Maybe they’re no
good, but I’m pretty well acquainted around Wayville,
the town where the robber was hurt, and I
might stumble across something.”</p>
<p>The jeweler became eager. He was dissatisfied
with the police, he said. He encouraged Bruce in
every way he could. He even offered to pay a reward
for the recovery of the stick pins. This Bruce
<span class="pagenum" title='166' id='Page_166'></span>declined. However, when he left the store it was
with a springy step and great hopes—and the
promise of a reward if he found the robber’s booty
thrilled him.</p>
<p>“Why, I’d be rich!” he told himself breathlessly.
“I’d have money enough to fight old Martin Dawson
through the courts to the last finish. Oh, yes—as
soon as the meet here is over, I’m going to go to
Wayville. There’s something I know that the police
didn’t know, and it may lead to big results.”</p>
<p>Bruce reached the restaurant dwelling on excited
anticipations over the diamonds, and filled with
pleasant thoughts as to his new environment generally.
His mind was fully occupied for about a
quarter of an hour. Then he began to get hungry
and impatient for Hiram to arrive. A man came
in rather hurriedly, and went over to a table in a
shadowed corner of the room. Bruce, studying
everything going on to pass the time away, noticed
something peculiar about the newcomer.</p>
<p>The latter wore a light overcoat with a well
turned up collar. He had a very dark beard, and
wore colored goggles.</p>
<p>“I’ll wager that man doesn’t want to be noticed
much,” thought Bruce, as the man took a seat with
his back turned to those at the other tables.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum" title='167' id='Page_167'></span>The newcomer ordered a light lunch. He did
not seem to enjoy it much. He ate it rapidly. Then
he kept looking at his watch as if impatient for
some certain minute to arrive. He drew the bill of
fare towards him, fumbled it over, took a pencil
from his pocket and began aimlessly to scribble on
its reverse blank surface.</p>
<p>Finally he arose, and, pulling his cap well down
over his eyes, proceeded to the cashier’s desk to pay
his check. Just then Hiram came in at a side door.
He slipped into the seat opposite Bruce and fixed his
eyes upon his face.</p>
<p>“Don’t make any suspicious move,” he spoke
under his breath and rapidly. “You noticed the
man who sat at the table over in the corner
yonder?”</p>
<p>“The one just paying his check? Why, yes,
I’ve been watching him for the last half hour. He’s
leaving the restaurant now.”</p>
<p>“Go after him, don’t delay,” urged Hiram excitedly.
“I’ve been watching him, too—through
the window. Follow him, and see where he goes
and get word to me as quick as you can.”</p>
<p>“Why, Hiram——”</p>
<p>“Don’t waste time!” interrupted Hiram almost
sharply. “I may be mistaken—I think not, and
this is important.”</p>
<p><span class="pagenum" title='168' id='Page_168'></span>Bruce questioned no further. He was used to
obeying his friend implicitly and he had a firm belief
that, impetuous as he sometimes was, Hiram
generally knew what he was about.</p>
<p>The minute Bruce was gone Hiram glided over
to the table recently occupied by the stranger. His
point of immediate interest was the bill of fare upon
which the man had just been scribbling—Hiram
scanned its surface eagerly. His eyes brightened
from surmise to conviction.</p>
<p>“Aha!” he almost cried out. “I was right. It’s
Mr. Borden.”</p>
<p>What that might mean to them all Hiram did not
know. Why Borden had appeared on the scene in
disguise he did not know, either. All Hiram considered
at that moment was that the tramp artist
had proven a good friend in the past. He had not
come to them of late, and probably had a reason for
it. He would scarcely venture in the vicinity of
the Syndicate crowd unless he had another reason.</p>
<p>Borden might have been a tramp once, but he presented
that appearance no longer. Artist he still
was, for he had idly sketched many faces upon the
bill of fare because it was natural for him to do it.</p>
<p>Hiram had been nearing the restaurant when he
saw the man enter it. Something in the free, careless
swing of the stranger had reminded him of
their old friend of the Midlothian grounds. He
had watched him through the window. Now he had
verified his suspicions.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum" title='169' id='Page_169'></span>“What is it going to lead to?” he meditated impatiently
and sat drumming his finger tips nervously
on the table, waiting for his friend and messenger
to show up.</p>
<p>Worthington, Valdec and three others of the Syndicate
crowd strolled noisily into the restaurant.
The coincidence of their arrival made the thoughtful
Hiram wonder if Borden had been timing their
movements.</p>
<p>In about twenty minutes he saw Bruce enter the
doorway, so Hiram arose quickly and jostled him
back into the street.</p>
<p>“Never mind supper for a bit,” he said, leading
his companion to a distance from the restaurant.
“The Worthington crowd are in there and they
might be snooping around if we got to talking.
The man you followed—what about him?”</p>
<p>“He slipped away from me,” reported Bruce
with some perturbation, “in the most remarkable
way.”</p>
<p>“Where did he go?” pressed Hiram.</p>
<p>“To the Syndicate hangar. Most of that crowd
were getting ready for supper. The man you sent
me to follow went in around the camp in a sly, slinking
way as if he knew his bearings pretty well.”</p>
<p>“He did, indeed!” murmured Hiram.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum" title='170' id='Page_170'></span>“I thought,” narrated Bruce, “that he had got
away from me, when he came bolting out from the
big hangar. I hadn’t seen him go in. He had something
in one hand wrapped up in a piece of cloth, a
bag I took it to be. He ran straight for the fence.
I got behind a tool shed and watched him.”</p>
<p>“Go on,” urged Hiram eagerly.</p>
<p>“Well, one of the electric lights shone pretty
bright just there. The man put his parcel on the
ground. Then he took something from his pocket
and slipped it across one ankle. I took it to be a
band with a hook to it. He must have had another
hook in his hand for he ran up that fence and vanished
over the top of it like a monkey.”</p>
<p>“But the package he brought from the <i>Whirlwind</i>
hangar?” asked Hiram.</p>
<p>“Oh, yes—I came near forgetting that. When
he set it on the ground the wrapping fell away from
it and I saw what it was.”</p>
<p>“And what was it?” asked Hiram.</p>
<p>“A barograph, just like the one you have in the
<i>Ariel</i>.”</p>
<p>“Are you sure?” eagerly asked Hiram. “A
barograph, you say?”</p>
<p>“Yes,” repeated Bruce, wondering at the earnest,
excited manner of his comrade. “Even at the distance
I was I could see the record reel and the metal
recorder, and—why, what are you grabbing my
arm that way for?” inquired Bruce in surprise.
“And you’re trembling all over.”</p>
<p><span class="pagenum" title='171' id='Page_171'></span>“Should think I would!” declared Hiram Dobbs,
his tones quivering with the satisfaction of some
great discovery—“I see the light at last!”</p>
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<div> <span class="pagenum" title='172' id='Page_172'></span></div>
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