CHAPTER III.
THE MAN FROM WASHINGTON.
"Sufferin' hurricanes, what a blow!" remarked Joe McGlory. "What good'sa flying machine, pard, when a spell of weather puts it down and out?The _Comet's_ a back number in a hatful of wind."
"Hatful!" repeated Motor Matt. "If this breeze isn't doing fifty milesan hour I'm no hand at guessing."
The two motor boys were in their old rendezvous, the calliope tent,sitting on a couple of overturned buckets and listening to the roarand boom of bellying canvas, the flutter and snap of banners, and thewhistle of violently disturbed air around the tent poles.
The big card played by Burton was the a?roplane flights, two ofwhich were given every day, before the afternoon and the eveningperformance--wind and weather permitting. Since the motor boys'engagement with Burton, Matt had not failed to take the a?roplane alofton an average of more than two days a week. This violent wind madethe morning flight at Reid's Lake one of the "off" days. There was achance, however, that the wind would go down with the sun, and that itwould be possible to do a little flying before the evening show.
It was Saturday, and the "Big Consolidated" was to remain at Reid'sLake over Sunday and give two performances Monday. On Monday,therefore, it was quite possible the _Comet_ would be able to carry outher part of the circus programme.
"Up in North Dakota," observed Joe McGlory, "where it blows like sinwhen it _does_ blow, you've capered around in the sky in the face of abreeze every bit as strong as this, Matt."
"There it was different," answered the young motorist. "I didn't haveto manipulate the machine over the show grounds, and there were notthousands of people directly underneath to suffer if the a?roplanedidn't come down in the place from which it started. I don't want anymore accidents like the one we had at Jackson."
"Where a snake short-circuited the engine, and you had all kinds ofhair-raising experiences," breathed McGlory. "Speak to me about that!By gorry, I wouldn't even look on while you pulled off another suchperformance, pard, for a million in yellow boys!"
Before the king of the motor boys could make any reply, Landers, theman who had charge of the calliope, showed himself in the tent door.Behind him trailed a smooth-faced man of forty, in a cap and graytweeds.
"That's Motor Matt," said Landers, pointing to the young motorist."This gentleman wants a word with you, Matt," he added, "and Ivolunteered to show him where you could be found."
Landers ducked away again, and the stranger pushed into the tent.
"Fancy!" he exclaimed, staring at Matt, then at McGlory, and thenletting his eyes wander around the tent. "So this is Motor Matt. Ah, byJove!"
McGlory picked up a bucket, emptied the water out of it, and turned itupside down.
"Sit down, pilgrim," said the cowboy, "and make yourself comfortable."
The other pulled up his trousers at the knees and deposited himselfcarefully on the bucket. He laughed a little, lifted a round piece ofglass from his coat and tucked it into his right eye, and then tookanother look at Matt and McGlory.
"Only fancy!" he murmured.
"If you want to join the show," said McGlory, with a wink at Matt,"you'll have to see Burton."
"Join the show?" returned the other. "Why, I don't want to join theblooming circus. I'm just looking for Motor Matt, don't you know."
"You're not looking for him, neighbor, but at him. It's your move."
"Deuced odd, that. My move. In other words, I'm to tell my business,eh? It's private, very. I want to talk with Motor Matt alone."
McGlory started to get up, but Matt stopped him with a gesture.
"This is my chum, Joe McGlory," said he. "I have no secrets from him.Fire away, sir."
"Aw," drawled the other. "Well, if that's the way of it, then heregoes."
Drawing a morocco case from his pocket, the stranger extracted a cardand handed it to Matt.
"Reginald Pierce Twomley," ran the legend on the card; then, down inthe lower left-hand corner were the words: "Attach? British Embassy,Washington."
Matt passed the card to McGlory.
"Glad to see you, Mr. Twomley," said Matt. "What can we do for you?"
Reginald Pierce Twomley lighted a cigarette. It was a pretty cigarette,with a gilt monogram on one side. He offered the case to the boys, butthey respectfully declined.
"Aw, let us approach our business with method," said Mr. Twomley. "Ihave come from Washington--aw--on very important business. Allow me toprove my right to act as agent for his excellency the Ambassador byrecapitulating a few facts with which you must be familiar.
"At one time, my dear sir, there was with this circus a Hindoo mahoutwho called himself Ben Ali. That was not his real name, but it willserve. With Ben Ali was a young lady who was called Haidee. BenAli was a rotter--the worst case of thug that ever came out of theBombay presidency--and he had a powerful rajah for a brother. Ben Alitook care of the rajah's elephant herd. The rajah's sister marriedone Lionel Manners. Manners died, his wife perished by the infernalpractice of _suttee_--even now secretly practised in spite of theEnglish government--and Ben Ali left India with Manners' only daughter,Margaret. The girl known as Haidee was in reality Margaret Manners. AmI correct?"
Matt nodded.
"Ben Ali was an adept in the hypnotic line," proceeded Twomley, lookingthoughtfully into the smoke of his cigarette, "and Miss Manners wasin this country and with the show against her will. Her uncle, therascally Ben Ali, kept her under his evil influence, and was graduallycausing her to forget even her own identity. The mahout bore a grudgeagainst his powerful brother, the rajah, and he had stolen the girl ina spirit of revenge. Eventually, he hoped to force the rajah to paymany rupees for Miss Manners before Ben Ali released her. But this isbeside the mark. I don't care a hap'orth about that part of it. Thepoint that concerns the British Ambassador, Sir Roger Morse-Edwards, isthis:
"You and your friends, Motor Matt, discovered who Haidee really was.You rescued her from the evil spell of the mahout, and she was left inLafayette, Indiana, in charge of a worthy English lady, pending advicesfrom her uncle, the rajah, in India. We have received advices, not fromthe rajah, but direct from our foreign office. I was sent forthwithto Lafayette to get Miss Manners, take her to New York, and, with asuitable maid as companion, send her by first steamer to Liverpool, andso to London."
"Good!" exclaimed Matt, with visible satisfaction. "Miss Manners isa very fine girl, and I suppose her future will make up for the manyhardships she has undergone while in this country."
"Exactly," answered Twomley, "if we could find her. But we can't. Shehas disappeared."
"Disappeared?" gasped Matt.
"That is the way of it. I went to this English lady in Lafayette,and she received me with astonishment. Several days before a man,professing to be from the ambassador, had called and taken MissManners away. We are done, done as brown as a kipper, and a telegramto Washington brought an answer requesting me to hunt up this show andhave a talk with you."
Motor Matt was astounded. And so was McGlory.
"Have you any idea who the man was that called on the English woman inLafayette and took Miss Manners away?"
"No. The Lafayette police are looking for him."
"Have you any idea that Ben Ali is mixed up in the affair?"
"I have, Motor Matt, and a very clear idea. I was ten years in India,and learned the natives there, and their ways. It was for that, Ifancy, that Sir Roger asked me to come for Miss Manners. While I wasabout taking the train at Lafayette, yesterday, I received anothermessage from the ambassador. That message informed me that a telegramhad been received from Ben Ali, informing Sir Roger that he againhad the girl in his possession, and that she would be delivered toany agent Sir Roger might send after her on payment of ten thousandpounds."
"Fifty thousand dollars!" exclaimed Matt. Then he whistled.
"Old Ben Ali is out for the stuff," muttered McGlory grimly.
"He's a crafty beggar!" commented Twomley. "I left all the telegramswith the po
lice, and Sir Roger is taking the whole matter up with theUnited States state department. The Secret Service of the governmentwill presently be at work on this case, for it is of internationalimportance. Can you give any information, Motor Matt, that will help usfind Ben Ali, or Miss Manners?"
Matt shook his head.
"Why doesn't the ambassador agree to send some one to meet Ben Ali?Then the rascal could be caught."
"He's too clever to let himself be caught. He----"
Just here Boss Burton strode into the tent, followed by Carl.
"Shut up about that, Carl," the showman was growling. "You haven't anyright to that letter, and I'm going to keep it."
"I'm in der tedectif pitzness," returned Carl, "und I need dot ledder,py shinks, to helup unrafel der case. Modor Matt," and Carl appealed tohis pard, "make Purton gif me der ledder."
"What letter?" demanded Matt.
"I'll tell you what we'll do," said Burton to Carl; "we'll leave theletter with Matt. If Wily can prove it's his, then Matt can turn thething over to him."
Burton handed a folded sheet to Matt. The latter, entirely in the dark,opened the sheet and laid it on his knee.
"What sort of writing is this?" he asked.
"That's too many for me. It isn't Chinese--Carl said Ping told himthat--and it isn't Dutch. Of course, it's not English. And who itbelongs to, or where it came from, or what's the good of it, is morethan I know. But it appears to have caused a lot of bother."
"It's Hindoostanee," spoke up Twomley, staring at the open sheet. "Ican read the language. If you wish, I'll translate it."
Then, for the first time, Burton and Carl turned on the Englishman andtook his measure.