CHAPTER IV.
A VILLAINOUS PLOT.
"Hab yo'-all been makin' any dealings wif dat 'ar Slocum, Marse Matt?"inquired Uncle Tom. "If he allowed tuh yo' dat he was Kunnel Plympton,den he's done complicated hisse'f all up wif whut dey calls pettyla'ceny, en yo' kin sweah out er warrant en put him in de jug."
"I don't believe it's as bad as that, Uncle Tom," said Matt. "I'mpretty busy to-night, and if you can come around and see me some othertime we'll have a little talk."
"Sho'ly, Marse Matt," replied Uncle Tom, getting to his feet andbending down to rub one of his legs that didn't seem to be acting justright. "De rheumatix hab been pesterin' me powerful bad evah sence dat'sperience Ah had down dar in Arizony. Yo' ain't gwine tuh cut me outob mah job ob 'fishul mascot fo' yo', is yuh? Yo' needs one all detime, sah, en Ah 'lows dar ain't a bettah mascot dan whut Ah is anywhahen de country. Ah mascotted two dollahs' wuff fo' Mistah Tomlinson,en----"
"We'll talk that over next time you come, Uncle Tom," interrupted Matt."Just now I'm anxious to have a few words with Carl."
"Sho'ly, sho'ly. Well, Marse Matt, Ah wishes yo' good ebenin', an'Mistah Carl good ebenin'. Ah'll root fo' bofe ob yo' when Ah gits backhome. Yo'-all kin expec' somethin' tuh happen in de mawnin'."
The genial old fraud let himself out and closed the door carefullybehind him.
"Chiminy Grismus!" muttered Carl, as soon as he and Matt were alone."Vat sort oof a game iss dot Slocum feller drying to blay? Und vy isshe blaying it? Uncle Dom has shtirred oop somet'ing, I bed you."
"It's a conundrum to me, Carl," mused Matt, leaning back in his chair."That card of his was genuine enough, but, of course, it wouldn't bedifficult for a man to get hold of one of Colonel Plympton's cards.Still, the fellow didn't look as I imagined Colonel Plympton looks."
"Der offers vat he made vas fine und pig," said Carl glumly. "Meppy dotvas pecause he don'd got der righdt to make dem. Aber vy he do dot?"
"Another thing," went on Matt, following his own line of thought, "itwouldn't be likely that Colonel Plympton would come around lookingme up. I want the job, and I'm the one to go to him. I ought to havesuspected something, just from that."
"Vell, you peen hired, anyvay. I vonder how dot Slocum feller villoxblain vat he dit to der Sdark-Frispie peoples? Meppy dey hired himto come aroundt? Led's be jeerful, anyvays, undil ve know dot Slocumvas blaying some crooked games. He say for you to come aroundt in dermorning und he vould gif you a ledder py der masder-meganic vere derrace iss to run. In der morning, Matt, you vill findt oudt all aboundtit."
"That's right, Carl," answered Matt, throwing off his worry as well ashe could; "in the morning, when I call on Colonel Plympton, I'll findout if anything is wrong, and just what it is. Now let's tumble intobed, pull covers, and try to forget that anything has gone wrong."
The boys had had a hard day, and Carl was snoring almost as soon ashis head struck the pillow. Matt, however, lay awake for some time,thinking over all that had happened since he and Carl had reachedDenver. They had been in town only a few hours and yet Matt's enemieshad lost no time in beginning their treacherous work.
Carl's experience proved that the hostile drivers were organized,and that Sercomb and his friends had prejudiced some of the otherchauffeurs against him.
Ralph Sercomb was unscrupulous. He felt that he had good reason to hateMatt, and to try to play even with him, and he would go to any lengthin carrying out his despicable schemes.
Motor Matt had for years been eager to make good as a racing-driver. Hewas at home with a gasoline-motor, and speed, to him, was its highestexpression of power. The race for the Borden cup offered him a chanceto enter the racing field, and he was not the one to turn back from thegoal simply because he was encountering a few difficulties at the start.
"I'll get into that race," he muttered to himself resolutely, "and I'llmake good."
And with that resolve and conviction he fell asleep.
Next morning he was up early. Arousing Carl, they both got into theirclothes and went down to breakfast.
Colonel Plympton had his office in a building on Sixteenth Street.Following breakfast, Matt started to have his interview with thecolonel. Carl was left behind at the hotel.
As Matt turned into the office building, some one brushed past him,through the door. Matt had only a casual glance at the form, but itseemed so familiar that he turned back to look after the man.
To his surprise, he found the fellow turning for a glance at him. Itwas Ralph Sercomb.
There was a grim, mocking smile on Sercomb's face. He did not stop, butpassed hurriedly on and lost himself in the crowd.
Sercomb had just been calling on some one in the building. Could ithave been Colonel Plympton?
Matt, somewhat thoughtful because of this unexpected encounter, gotinto the elevator and rode to the fourth floor. In the ante-room ofColonel Plympton's office he gave his name to a boy, and the lattervanished through a door marked "private." The boy was back in about aminute.
"Colonel Plympton says he can't see you," was the report.
"If he's busy," returned Matt, "I'll wait until he can see me."
"It won't do you no good, see?" said the boy. "He don't _want_ to seeyou. Ain't that plain enough?"
Matt hesitated for a moment. He knew something must have gone wrongor he would not have met with such a reception. Mr. Tomlinson, a goodfriend of Plympton's and of Matt's, had promised the young motoristthat Plympton would give him a hearing.
"Was Ralph Sercomb just here?" asked Matt.
"Sure he was," answered the boy; "he's one of the colonel's men, an'he's here a good deal. Here! Where you goin'?"
Matt had started for the door of the private room. Paying no attentionto the boy, he kept right on, opened the door and stepped into theinner office.
A tall man, with gray hair and mustache, was sitting at his deskreading a newspaper. He looked up as Matt entered.
"Well?" he demanded.
"He come right in, Colonel Plympton," called the boy from behind Matt."I told him what you said."
"Ah!" Plympton laid aside his paper, wheeled the chair about and gaveMatt his keen attention. "That was hardly the thing for you to do,King," said he. "When I say a thing I usually mean it."
"I'm sure, sir," returned Matt, "that you wouldn't have refused to seeme if you hadn't been misinformed about some things connected with me.I beg your pardon for walking in on you uninvited, but you can hardlyrefuse to let me say a few words for myself, Colonel Plympton."
There was something so steady and true in the lad's gray eyes, andsomething so frank and open about his face, that the colonel noddedtoward a chair.
"You might as well sit down, now you're in here," said he, "but I don'tthink anything you can say will change my opinion of you."
"Did Mr. Tomlinson speak to you about me?" asked Matt, taking the chair.
"He did--and warmly--yesterday afternoon. That made it all the harderfor me to believe something that has just come to light."
"Ralph Sercomb was just here?"
"Sercomb is one of our crack drivers, but I wouldn't have believed evenhim if he hadn't had proof of what he said in black and white."
"Sercomb is not a friend of mine----"
"I have nothing to do with that, King. Every fellow who amounts toanything is bound to make enemies."
"I want to become a racer, Colonel Plympton, and I think, if I had achance, that I could deliver the goods."
"Why don't you hook up with the Bly-Lambert people?" asked the coloneldryly. "You seem to have established a connection in that quarter."
"I don't understand you," replied Matt.
"Oh, come, come!" exclaimed Plympton impatiently. "Do you mean to sitthere and tell me you didn't have a talk with Slocum, last night?"
"Is Slocum connected with the Bly-Lambert people?"
"Well, I should say so! If the Kansas City men want to hire a fellow tothrow a race, Slocum is just the one to put the deal through for them."
Matt, who was beginning to see a little light in the queer tangle, laidthe card Slocum had sent up, the evening before, on the desk in frontof the colonel.
"Is that your card, Colonel Plympton?" he asked.
"Undeniably," was the answer.
"Well, Slocum sent that to me last night, and claimed to be you. I hadnever seen you, and, consequently, didn't know he was acting a part."
"Mighty complimentary to me, I must say," muttered the colonel, "tomistake Slocum for myself. Well, go on, King. What happened?"
"Slocum hired me to drive a car in the race for the Borden cup. Heoffered me five hundred dollars for doing it, and a bonus of twothousand dollars if I won. And he hired me for the Stark-FrisbieCompany!"
"Hardly!" returned the colonel. "He had no authority. Stark-Frisbie arenot dealing through such rascals as Slocum."
"I signed an agreement to that effect, anyway," went on Matt.
"Did you read that agreement before you signed it?"
"Yes, sir."
"Then look at this. Sercomb just brought it in."
The colonel pulled a folded paper out of his desk and handed it to Matt.
The young motorist, taking the paper, opened it and read as follows:
"For the sum of one hundred dollars, receipt of which is hereby acknowledged, I agree to enter the Borden cup race with a Stark-Frisbie car, and to do my utmost to throw the race in favor of the Bly-Lambert contestants.
"Signed, MATT KING."
The white rushed into Motor Matt's face. With a gasp he dropped backinto his chair, staring with wide eyes at Colonel Plympton.