The Rover Boys Down East/Chapter 20
CHAPTER XX
AN ADVENTURE IN BOSTON
The Rover boys looked at each other inquiringly. They wanted to go on, but did not know what to do about the stalled automobile.
"You go ahead/* said Spud, reading their thoughts. "I'll fix the tire, or have it done by some garage man, and I'll see you later."
"Where?" asked Dick.
"I'll go to the Parker House—that is where my uncle always goes," answered Spud.
"Very well—we'll call for you or send a message," said Tom. "Come on, here is a trolley!" And he ran to stop the car. Soon he and his brothers were on board and bound for the heart of the city.
"Say, do you know any street in town that begins with Carm?" questioned Dick, of the car conductor.
"Carm?" repeated the man, slowly. "No, I don't. I don't believe there is such a street."
"Do you know the streets pretty well?"
"I ought to—I drove an express wagon for four years."
"That looks as if we were up against it," said Dick, to his brothers.
"We'll go in a drug store and consult a city directory," answered Sam. "He may think he knows all the streets, but every city has a lot of places even the oldest inhabitant doesn't know."
They rode on a few blocks further and then, seeing a large drug store, alighted from the car and entered the place. A directory was handy, on a stand, and they asked for permission to consult it.
"Nothing like Carm here," said Tom, after they had looked at the alphabetical list of streets. "We are stumped, sure enough."
"Hello! I've got it—I think!" burst out Sam, so loudly that the attention of several persons in the store was attracted to him. "Here is a Varmolet street. Maybe Mrs. Stanhope only heard the name, and thought it was Carmolet. She wrote that down, and the end became rubbed off."
"You may be right, Sam," answered Dick. "Anyway, I guess your idea is worth looking into. I wonder where Varmolet street is?"
They made several inquiries, and at last learned that the street was a narrow and exceedingly crooked affair about half a mile away. They boarded another street car to visit the neighborhood.
"Look who is here!" ejaculated Tom, as he and his brothers sat down.
"Well, I never!" cried Sam.
"Jerry Koswell and Bart Larkspur!" murmured Dick.
It was indeed the two former students of Brill—the lads who had run away after causing the Rovers and some others so much trouble. Both were loudly dressed in summer outing flannels, and each carried an unlighted cigarette in his hand.
"Huh!" grunted Jerry Koswell, as he glared at the Rovers. "Where did you come from?"
"Perhaps we might ask the same question," returned Dick, coldly.
This meeting was not at all to his taste, especially when he and his brothers wished to turn their whole attention to locating Mrs. Stanhope and her enemies.
"Have you been following us?" demanded Bart Larkspur.
"No, Larkspur, we have something of more importance to do," answered Tom.
"Huh! you needn't get gay, Rover!"
"I'll get gay if I wish," retorted Tom, sharply. "You had better not follow us," came in ugly tones from Jerry Koswell. "If you do you'll get yourselves in hot water."
"See here, Koswell, and you too, Larkspur," said Dick, in a low but distinct tone. "We know all about what you did at Brill—and so do the authorities know it. Just at present we haven't time to bother with you. But some day we may get after you."
"Bah! you can't scare me!" snorted Koswell. Yet his face showed that he was disturbed.
"Are you staying in Boston?" asked Sam, somewhat curiously.
"No, we are bound for a trip up the coast to"
"Shut up, Jerry, don't tell 'em where we are going," interrupted Larkspur. "It's none of their business."
"Some day we'll get after you," said Dick. "Now we've got to leave you," he added, as the car conductor called out the name of Varmolet street, as Dick had requested him to do.
"You keep your distance!" shouted Koswell after the Rover boys.
"We are not afraid of you!" added Larkspur, and then the car went on again, and the two former students of Brill were lost to view.
"They are off on some kind of a trip," said Sam. "Evidently they have quite some money."
"More money than brains," returned Tom, bluntly. "If their folks don't take 'em in hand, they'll both end up in prison some day."
"Koswell mentioned a trip up the coast," said Dick. "They must be going up to Portland and Casco Bay, or further."
"I'd like to go to Casco Bay myself," said Sam. "It's a beautiful spot, with its islands. Tom Favor was telling me all about it. He spent three summers there."
They had alighted at the corner of Varmolet street and now started to look for No. 234. They had to walk two blocks, past houses that were disreputable in the extreme.
"I don't like the look of this neighborhood," remarked Sam, as they hurried along. "I'd hate to visit it after dark."
"Think of what Mrs. Stanhope must be suffering, if they brought her to such a spot," returned Dick, and could not help shuddering.
Presently they reached No. 234, an old three-storied house, with a dingy front porch, and with solid wooden shutters, the majority of which were tightly closed. Not a soul was in sight around the place.
"Don't ring any bell," warned Sam. "If those rascals are here they may take the alarm and skip out"
"There isn't any bell to ring," answered Tom, grimly. "There was once an old-fashioned knocker, but it has been broken off."
"I think one of us ought to try to get around to the back," said Dick. "If those rascals are here they may try to escape that way."
"That is true," returned Tom. "But let us make sure first that we have the right place. The folks living here may be all-right people, and they'd think it strange to see us spying around."
Dick looked up and down the street and saw a girl eight or nine years old sitting on a porch some distance away, minding a baby.
"Will you tell me who lives in that house?" he asked, of the girl.
"Why, old Mr. Mason lives there," was the answer.
"Mr. Mason?"
"Yes. He's a very old man—'most ninety years old, so they say."
"Does he live there alone?"
"Yes—that is, all the rest af his family are' dead. He has a housekeeper, Mrs. Sobber.
"Mrs. Sobber!" exclaimed Dick.
"Yes, sir."
"How old is she?"
"Oh, I don't know—maybe forty or fifty. She's been Mr. Mason's housekeeper for three or four years. If you call on her, you want to look out. She don't buy from agents.
"Why?" asked Dick, innocently. He did not mind that the little girl took him to be an agent.
"Oh, she is too sharp and miserly, I guess. She used to get me to do her errands for her—but she never paid me even a cent for it."
"Anybody else in the house?"
"Not regular. Once in a while a young man comes to see Mrs. Sobber. He ain't her son, but he's some kind of a relation. I think she's his aunt, or great aunt."
"Haven't you seen anybody else coming lately?"
"I've been away lately—down to my grandfather's farm. I came back last night. I wish I was back on the farm," added the little girl, wistfully.
"Never mind, maybe you'll get back some day," said Dick, cheerily. "Here's something for you," And he dropped a silver dime in her lap, some thing that pleased her greatly.
"It's the place!" cried the eldest Rover boy, on rejoining his brothers. "An old man lives here, and a Mrs. Sobber is his housekeeper. She is some relation to Tad, I feel sure. Maybe she is the one who advanced him some money."
"And maybe she is the woman seen in the auto with Mrs. Stanhope," added Tom, quickly.
"I shouldn't be surprised."
"If you are sure of all this, hadn't we better notify the police?" came from Sam. "Remember, we have not only Tad Sobber against us, but also old Crabtree, and one or two unknown men. In a hand-to-hand fight we might get the worst of it"
"That's a good idea, Sam. Run up to the cor ner and see if you can find a policeman," said Dick.
"I guess I know how to get to the rear of that building," mused Tom. "I'll go through that alleyway and jump the fences," and he pointed to an alleyway several houses away.
"All right, Tom. You do that, and I'll get in the front way somehow. I'm not going to wait another minute. They may have seen us already, and be getting out by some way of which we know nothing."
Thus speaking, Dick mounted the porch and rapped loudly on the door with his bare knuckles. Tom ran off and disappeared down the alleyway he had pointed out.
Dick listened and then rapped again, this time louder than before. Then he heard a movement inside the house, but nobody came to answer his summons. He tried the door, to find it locked.
"Mrs. Sobber, who is that?" asked a trembling and high-pitched voice—the voice of the old man who owned the building.
"Oh, it's only a peddler; don't go to the door," answered a woman.
"I am not a peddler!" cried Dick. "I have business in this house, and I want to come in."
"You go away, or I'll set the dog on you!" cried the woman, and now Dick heard her moving around at the back of the hall.
"Mrs. Sobber, I want you to open this door!" went on Dick, sharply. "If you don't you'll get yourself into serious trouble."
"Want to be bit by the dog?"
"No, I don't want to be bit by a dog," answered Dick. He listened but heard nothing of such an animal. "I don't believe you have a dog. Will you open, or shall I bring a policeman."
"Mercy on us, a policeman!" gasped the woman. "No, no, don't do that!"
"What does this mean?" demanded the old man. "Open that door, Mrs. Sobber, and let me see who is there. I don't understand this. Day before yesterday you brought those strange folks, and now"
"Hush! hush!" interrupted the woman, in agitated tones. "Not another word, Mr. Mason. You are too old to understand. Leave it all to me. I will soon send that fellow outside about his business."
"This is my house, and I want to know what is going on here!" shrilled the old man, and Dick heard him tottering across the floor. "I'll open the door myself."
"No! no! not yet!" answered the woman.
"Mr. Mason, I want to come in!" cried Dick loudly. "There has been a crime committed. If you don't want to be a party to it, open the door."
"A crime," faltered the old man.
"Yes, a crime. Open the door at once!"
"No, no, you—er—you shall not!" stormed the woman, and Dick heard her shove the old man back.
"Mr. Mason, for the last time, will you let me in?" shouted Dick.
"Yes! yes!" answered the old man. "But Mrs. Sobber won't let me open the door."
"Then I'll open it myself," answered Dick, and hurled his weight against the barrier. It was old and dilapidated and gave way with ease; and a moment later Dick stepped into the hallway of the old house.