CHAPTER VIII.
THE PLOTTERS.
Merton and his seven companions were a disgruntled lot when theyreturned to Madison after forcing an interview with Motor Matt, havingtheir propositions rejected and then watching him get away afterunmasking the "commodore."
Merton drove the touring car straight for home, turned it over to thegardener--who was also something of a chauffeur--and then ushered hisfriends into his father's study, in the house.
The butler and the _chef_ had been left to look after Merton'scomfort. Merton immediately sent the butler to the ice box for severalbottles of beer, and the lads proceeded to drown their disgust anddisappointment in drink.
The idea that any human emotion can be blotted out with an intoxicatingbeverage is a fallacy. The mind can be drugged, for a time, but whenit regains its normal state all its impressions are revived even moreharrowingly than they were before.
As soon as the glasses had been emptied Merton produced severalpackages of cigarettes, and the air grew thick with the odor of burning"doctored" tobacco.
"What're we going to do with Motor Matt?" demanded Jimmie Hess. "Takeit from me, you fellows, something has got to be done with him or thecup goes back to the Yaharas. He's a chap that does things, all right."
"And game as a hornet," struck in Andy Meigs. "Wish we could find outwhat he's doing to the _Sprite_."
"That's what's worryin' me," said Perry Jenkins. "If he can coax twentymiles an hour out of the _Sprite_ he's got the cup nailed down."
"He don't know anything about the _Dart_," spoke up Rush Partington."As long as he thinks he's only got the _Wyandotte_ to beat, I guess wecan hold him."
"Hold nothing!" growled Martin Rawlins. "You don't understand how muchthat chap knows. Where did he grab all that about Halloran? He gets tothe bottom of things, he does, and it's a fool notion to try and pullthe wool over his eyes by sending the _Wyandotte_ over to Fourth Lakeevery day. If I----"
"Mr. Ollie," announced the butler, looking in at the door, "there's alittle negro boy downstairs and he says he won't leave till he seesyou."
"Kick him off the front steps, Peters," scowled Merton.
Peters would probably have carried out his orders had not the littlenegro quietly followed him up the stairs. As the butler turned away,the darky pushed past him and jumped into the study.
"Pickerel Pete!" went up a chorus of voices.
The colored boy was one of the town "characters," and was known bysight to everybody.
"Come here, you!" cried the exasperated Peters, pushing into the roomand reaching for Pete's collar.
"Drag him out," ordered Merton. "I haven't got any time to bother withhim."
"You all better bothah wif me," cried Pete, squirming in the butler'sgrip. "Ah kin tell yo' about dat Motor Matt, en Ah got some papahs datyo'd lak tuh have----"
"Come along, now, and stop your howlin'," grunted the butler, makingfor the door.
A clamor arose from those in the room.
"Wait, Peters!"
"Hear what he's got to say about Motor Matt!"
"Maybe he can give us a pointer that will be useful. Let's talk withhim, Ollie."
"Leave him here, Peters," said Merton.
The butler let go his hold on Pickerel Pete and went out of the study,shaking his head in disapproval of Mr. Ollie's orders.
"Now, then, you little rascal," went on Merton sternly, as soon as thedoor had closed behind the butler, "if you're trying to fool us you'llget a thrashing."
"En ef Ah ain't tryin' tuh fool yu," returned Pete, "is Ah gwine tuhgit two dollahs?"
"You say," asked Merton cautiously, "that you've got a roll of papers?"
"Dat's whut Ah has, boss. Ah stole dem f'om de boathouse ovah by thep'int where Motor Matt is workin' on de _Sprite_."
"Why did you steal them?"
"Tuh git even wif Motor Matt, dat's why," snorted Pete, glaring. "Hedone hiahed me fo' two dollahs er day, en den he turned me down fo' erno-count yaller Chink. When er man gits tuh be 'leben yeahs old, lakme, he ain't goin' tuh stand fo' dat sort o' work, no, suh. Ah jesssneaked up on de boathouse en Ah swiped de papahs."
It was plain to Merton that Pickerel Pete believed he had a grievanceagainst Motor Matt. This might make him valuable.
"Let's see the papers, Pete," said Merton. "If they're worth anythingto me I'll pay you for them."
"Dar dey is, boss," and Pete triumphantly drew the roll from the breastof his ragged "hickory" shirt.
Merton grabbed the roll eagerly, slipped off the rubber band and beganexamining every sheet. While his friends breathlessly watched, Mertonjammed the papers into his pocket, sprang to his feet and paced backand forth across the room.
"What is it, Ollie?"
"Found out anything important?"
"Do those papers really belong to Motor Matt?"
"Tell us about it, can't you?"
"Shut up a minute," growled Merton. "I'm framing up a plan."
For a little while longer Merton continued to pace the floor; then, atlast, he halted in front of Pete.
"There's five dollars for you, Pete," said Merton, taking a banknotefrom his pocket and handing it to the boy.
"Oh, by golly!" sputtered the overwhelmed Pete, grabbing at the billas a drowning man grabs at a straw. "Ah's rich, dat's whut Ah is. Say,boss, is all dis heah money fo' me? Ah ain't got no change."
"It's all yours, Pete," went on Merton; "what's more, if you'll comehere and see me Sunday afternoon at four o'clock, I'll give you achance to earn another five-dollar bill. Will you be here?"
"Will er duck swim, boss?" fluttered Pete, kissing the crumpledbanknote and tucking it carefully away in a trousers pocket. "Sundayaftehnoon at fo' erclock. Ah'll be heah fo' suah, boss."
"Then get out."
Pickerel Pete effaced himself--one hand in his trousers pocket to makesure the banknote was still there, and that he was not dreaming.
"Now, then, Ollie," said Martin Rawlins, "tell us what your game is."
"Yes, confound it," grumbled Meigs. "We're all on tenterhooks."
"These papers, fellows," answered Merton, drawing the crumpled sheetsfrom his pocket, "contain Motor Matt's plans for changing the _Sprite_.Looking over them hastily, I gather the idea that he's making the_Sprite_ just fast enough to beat the _Wyandotte_."
A snicker went up from the others.
"We've got him fooled, all right," was the general comment.
"Don't be too sure you've got that Motor Matt fooled," counseledRawlins. "Maybe he put that roll where the negro could get it, andexpected he _would_ get it. This king of the motor boys is deep--don'tlet that get past your guard for a minute. I've put all the money Icould rake and scrape into the betting pool, and I don't want to loseit by any snap judgments."
That was the way with the rest of them. They had all clubbed theirfunds together and the result was a big purse for betting purposes.
"I guess it means as much to the rest of us as it does to you, Martin,to have the _Dart_ win," said Merton dryly. "Motor Matt's deep, asyou say, but don't make the mistake of crediting him with too muchknowledge. He's only human, like the rest of us. From the way matterslook now, we've got him and Lorry beaten, hands down. Motor Matt isn'tsharp enough to steer those papers into my hands by way of Pete.Now, in all this betting of ours, the money is being placed with theunderstanding that if there is _no race_ we take the cash; in otherwords, if the Yaharas back down and fail to send a boat to the startingline, we take the money."
"They won't back down," said Jimmie Hess. "Great Scott, Ollie, youdon't think for a second that Lorry will back down, do you?"
"He may have to," was Merton's vague reply. "Anyhow, if you fellowsmake any bets outside of the pool, just make 'em in that way--that thestakes are yours if the Yaharas back down and there's no race."
"What's back of that, Ollie?" said Perry Jenkins. "You've got somethingup your sleeve, I know blamed well."
"And it's going to stay up my sleeve, so far as you fellows a
reconcerned," returned Merton. "If I evolve a plan, I don't believe inadvertising it. This Motor Matt _may_ have steered those papers intoour hands, and he _may_ be deep enough to make the _Sprite_ a betterboat than the _Dart_ while not knowing anything about the _Dart_, butI don't think so. However, I intend to be on the safe side. It means awhole lot to me to win--personally, and apart from my desire to see theWinnequas keep the De Lancey cup. Just how much it means"--and Mertonwinced--"you fellows are not going to know, any more than you're goingto know what I've got at the back of my head for Sunday night. Put yourtrust in the commodore--that's all you've got to do. Open up some ofthat beer, Perry. I'm as dry as gunpowder's great-grandfather."
The glasses were filled again.
"To our success in the race," said Merton, lifting his glass andsweeping his keen eyes over the faces of his friends; "may the _Dart_win, by fair means"--he paused--"or otherwise."
Four or five peered at Merton distrustfully over their glasses; but, inthe end, they drank the toast.
The success of the _Dart_ meant dollars and cents to them; and money,for those eight plotters, stood for more than club honors and the DeLancey cup.