Dave Porter and His Double Part 20

"I know where we are now," said Porton, presently, as he and his companion struck a well-defined road leading past the Wadsworth jewelry works. "We'll be right in Crumville in a little while more."

Ward Porton knew very well that he must not show himself in Crumville any more than was necessary. Consequently, as soon as they came within sight of the town proper, he suggested that they look around for some place where they might remain until daybreak.

"Right you are," answered Tim c.r.a.psey. And a little later, coming to a large barn, they tried the door, and, finding it unlocked, entered and proceeded to make themselves comfortable in some hay, using several horse blankets for coverings.

Here both of them, being thoroughly exhausted, fell sound asleep and did not awaken until it was daylight.

"Now we've got to lay our plans with great care," announced Ward Porton. "We can't go at this in any haphazard way. Even though it may prove comparatively easy to get our hands on those miniatures, it will be another story to get away with them in such a storm as this, with the railroad and every other means of communication tied up."

"This storm is jest the thing that's goin' to help us," answered c.r.a.psey. "With all the telegraph and telephone wires down the authorities won't be able to send out any alarm. And with the snow so deep, if we git any kind of a start at all it will be next to impossible for 'em to follow us up."

A discussion of ways and means followed that lasted the best part of an hour. Then, with money provided by Porton, and with many an admonition that he must not for the present drink another drop, Tim c.r.a.psey was allowed to depart for Crumville.

"And you be very careful of how you go at things," warned Porton.

Tim c.r.a.psey had a delicate mission to perform. First of all he was to size up matters around the homes of the Wadsworths and the Ba.s.swoods, and then he was to do what he could to hire a cutter and a fast horse at the local livery stable. This done, he was to procure something to eat both for himself and for his companion.

As time went by Ward Porton, on the alert for the possible appearance of the owner of the barn, became more and more anxious, and twice he went out in the roadway to see if his companion was anywhere in sight.

"It would be just like him to go off and get full of liquor," muttered the young man, with a scowl. "I really ought to part company with him.

But when he is perfectly sober he certainly is a slick one," he continued meditatively.

To pa.s.s the time the young man made a thorough search of the overcoat which he had stolen from Dave. He had already discovered a fine pair of gloves and had worn them. Now, in an inner pocket, he located a card-case containing half a dozen addresses, some postage stamps, and some of Dave's visiting cards. There were also two cards which had been blank, and on each of these, written in Dave's bold hand, was the following:

_Signature of David Porter, Crumville._

"h.e.l.lo! what's this?" mused the former moving-picture actor, as he gazed at the written cards. Then suddenly his face brightened. "Oh, I see! It's one of those cards that I heard about--the kind he has been distributing among the storekeepers in an effort to catch me. Say, one of these may come in handy when I go for those miniatures!" he continued.

At last he heard a noise outside, and looking in that direction saw Tim c.r.a.psey approaching in a somewhat dilapidated cutter, drawn, however, by a powerful-looking bay horse.

"Had a fierce time gittin' this horse," announced the man, as he came to a halt beside the barn. "The livery stable man didn't want to let him go out, and I had to tell him a long yarn about somebody bein'

sick and my havin' to git a doctor. And I had to offer him double price, too!" and at his own ruse the man chuckled hoa.r.s.ely.

He had brought with him some sandwiches and doughnuts, and also a bottle of hot coffee, and on these both made a somewhat limited breakfast, the man was.h.i.+ng the meal down with another drink from his flask.

"I kept my word--I didn't drink a drop when I was in town," he croaked. "But say, this is mighty dry work!"

"You keep a clear head on your shoulders, Tim," warned Porton. "Some day, drink is going to land you in jail or in the grave."

"Not much!" snorted the man. "I know when to stop." But Porton knew that this was not true.

Another conference was held, and c.r.a.psey told of having taken a look around, both at the Wadsworth place and the Ba.s.swood home.

"There is no one at the Ba.s.swood place but Mr. and Mrs. Ba.s.swood; and I understand the man is sick in bed," he said. "All the telephone wires are out of commission, but to make sure that the Ba.s.swoods couldn't telephone I cut the wire that runs into his real estate office--and I also cut the wire up at the Wadsworth house."

"Good for you, Tim!" returned Ward Porton, and then he told of having found the two cards, each containing Dave's signature.

"That's fine!" cried the man. "That ought to help you a great deal when you ask for the miniatures."

"I hope it does," answered Ward Porton, thoughtfully. "Now let us go; the sooner we get at this affair the better." And then both left the barn, entered the cutter, and drove rather slowly in the direction of the Ba.s.swood home.

CHAPTER XV

THE RETURN TO CRUMVILLE

"If Ward Porton got my cap and overcoat he must have been staying at this hotel," said Dave, after the announcement made by Ben. "Let us interview the proprietor without delay."

He and his chums hurried back into the hotel and there met not only the proprietor but also his son.

"See here, have you anybody staying here who looks like me?" demanded our hero of both of them.

"Sure, we've got a fellow who looks like you," declared the hotel-keeper's son before his father could speak. "It's a Mr. Jones.

He has a room up on the third floor. He's here with an older man named Brown."

"I wish you would take me up to their room!" cried Dave, quickly.

"Why! what's the matter now?"

"I want to find out whether that fellow is still here. If he is I want him placed under arrest." And then Dave related a few of the particulars concerning Ward Porton and his doings.

"That certainly is a queer story," remarked the hotel proprietor.

"I'll go upstairs with you."

He led the way, followed by Dave and his chums. The youths were much astonished to see him halt at the door next to their own.

"They don't seem to be there, or otherwise they are sleeping pretty soundly," remarked the hotel proprietor, after he had knocked on the door several times.

"I guess you had better unlock the door," suggested Dave. "I rather think you will find the room empty."

A key was secured from one of the maids and the door was opened. The proprietor gave one look into the apartment.

"Gone!" he exclaimed. "Say! do you think they have run away?"

"That's just exactly what I do think," answered Dave. "And that fellow who looks like me most likely took my cap and overcoat."

"And you say his name is Porton? He signed our register as William Jones."

"Here's his hat and coat," announced Phil, opening the door to a closet. "Pretty poor clothing he left you in return for yours, Dave,"

continued the s.h.i.+powner's son, after an inspection.

The hotel proprietor was very wrathy, declaring that Porton and his companion owed him for three days' board.

"They're swindlers, that's what they are!" he cried. "Just wait till I land on them! I'll put them in jail sure!"

"I'd willingly give you that board money just to get my hands on Ward Porton," announced Dave. He turned to his chums. "This sure is the limit! First he goes to the stores and gets a lot of things in my name and then he steals my hat and overcoat right from under my nose!"