The Apartment Next Door by William Andrew Johnston (iphone ebook reader txt) 📕

He tried reading every other word, every third word, both backward and forward. Nothing that he did revealed any combination of words that made sense.

"Passports," he muttered to himself, "that's it. If there is a message there it must be something about passports."

In despair he turned to the other advertisement. It read:

DON'T

Forget it is imperative for one and all to
use cleansing agents on teeth that leave
no bad results.

"Ship more of that wonder-working
paste immediately. Workers, employers,
wives, all ready to commend it. Friday's
supply gone," writes a druggist to whom
a big shipment was made last week.


USE DENTO

A genuine, safe, pleasing paste for the
teeth, prepared and sold only by the
Auer Dental Company, New York.

Fleck's eyes gleamed with satisfaction as he read this advertisement and caught the phrase "wonder-working." He felt sure now that he was on the right track. He recalled that Jane Strong over the dictograph had heard old Hoff speak of something that he called the "wonder-worker." As soon as Carter returned with the other advertisements that had been appearing he felt positive that he would be able to unravel the cipher. Two words he was sure of--"passports" and "wonder-working." One footprint does not lead anywhere, but two do, and given three footprints, a pathway is indicated.

His telephone rang sharply. He turned to answer it, suspecting it must be Carter with some message about the papers he had sent for.

"Hello," he called.

"Hello," came a faint voice, as if the speaker were using long distance, and had a bad connection, "is this Fleck?"

"Yes, Fleck," he answered, "who is this?"

"Dean speaking," came the voice faintly.

"Dean," cried Fleck, excitedly, "yes, yes. What is it, Dean?"

He had not expected to hear any results from the expedition that Dean and Jane Strong had undertaken until late in the afternoon after the Hoffs returned. The fact that Dean was calling him up now would seem to indicate that something of importance had happened.

"I'm telephoning from a doctor's house near Nyack," said Dean.

"What's that? Speak louder."

"I'm here in Doctor Spencer's office near Nyack with a broken arm," Dean continued. "We've had an accident. Somebody's auto smashed into us, I guess."

"Miss Strong? Where is she? Is she hurt?" asked the chief anxiously.

"I don't know. She has vanished."

Jane Strong vanished! The chief's figure became suddenly tensed. That it was more than a mere automobile accident he felt certain now. Shadowing the Hoffs was an occupation that seemed unusually perilous. There flashed into his mind the fate of K-19--murdered almost at the Hoffs' door. And now two more of his operatives, one disabled and the other mysteriously missing.

"Quick," he said over the 'phone. "Tell me briefly just what happened. Speak as loudly as you can."

"We got half an hour behind at the West Point Ferry," Dean's voice went on, still weak and low as if he were speaking with difficulty. "We had some trouble getting started on the trail again but finally succeeded. We were dashing along about ten or twelve miles south of West Point when an automobile coming out of a cross road crashed right into us. It must have knocked me unconscious. I didn't remember anything more till I found myself here. I came to as the doctor was setting my arm. I 'phoned as soon as they would let me."

"Who brought you there?"

"I don't know. All they know here was that some couple in an automobile left me here. They said they passed just after an auto hit my motorcycle. They said the auto didn't stop."

"And Miss Strong--did they say anything about her?"

"Not a word. The people here were under the impression I was riding alone."

"All right," said the chief. "I'll get some one up there at once to look after you and pick up any clues."

As he hung up the 'phone, his forehead wrinkled into little lines of absorbed concentration. He sat at his desk for fully five minutes almost motionless, trying to figure it out. What did the accident to Dean signify? How was the sudden disappearance of Jane Strong to be accounted for? Had she fled from the scene after Dean was disabled, fearing that her name might be coupled with his in an account of the accident? It did not seem like the sort of thing she would do. The impression she had made on him was that of a girl of high resolve who would be apt to carry through anything she undertook, cost what it may. Yet what could have happened to her? If she, too, had been injured, why was she not with Dean? If she was not injured, why had she not communicated with the office? Who were the couple that had brought Dean to the doctor's office? Why had not the doctor taken their names and addresses?

What part had the Hoffs played in the accident? Had they purposely run down the motorcycle? If they had found out they were being shadowed they would not have hesitated, he felt sure, to resort to such murderous tactics. Had they not already one dastardly murder to their record? He must find out when the Hoffs arrived home. They would not be due for an hour or two, but he would caution the operatives watching the house to keep more vigilant watch. Reaching for his 'phone he called up the head-quarters of the operatives.

"Report to me at once," he said to the operative who answered his call, "the minute the Hoffs have arrived home."

"The old man is home now," the operative answered.

"What's that?" cried Fleck.

"He came in alone five minutes ago on foot. The young man is not home yet with the automobile."

"Let me know as soon as he arrives," said Fleck curtly, turning away from the 'phone.

He was more perplexed than ever. What could have happened? Where was young Hoff with the motor? Where was Jane Strong? Why had she disappeared after Dean had been hurt? How had she vanished? The Hoffs' affairs had assuredly taken a new and bothersome turn, over which Fleck sat puzzling many minutes.

Where was Jane Strong? In the answer to that question, he decided at length, lay the crux of the whole situation.

CHAPTER XI JANE'S ADVENTURE

For more than two hours Thomas Dean and Jane had been vainly circling about West Point on their motorcycle, striving to pick up some clue that would put them once more on the trail of the Hoffs' car. They had not dared to ask too many questions of any one near the ferry, fearful lest the people they were pursuing might have a guard posted there to warn them in case of a possible pursuit, yet cautious inquiries seemed to indicate that all the automobiles on the ferryboat which had preceded had been headed to the north.

"There's only one thing we can do," Dean had said despondently. "We have got to run out each road we come to until we reach some shop or garage where the people would be likely to have noticed the Hoffs. They may have stopped somewhere, or we may meet some one coming toward us who will remember having passed them."

"It seems like a wild-goose chase," said Jane, "but I suppose there is nothing else to do."

The strain of their bitter disappointment was telling on both of them. Each felt inclined to blame the other for their having fallen so far behind. They rode along in silence, their nerves becoming more and more keyed up as their hopes grew less. At garage after garage they paused to question the employees.

"Did a big gray car with two men, an old man with a beard and a young man driving, pass this way about an hour ago?"

"I don't remember any such car," was the invariable answer.

Time and time again they repeated their query, wording it always the same, except for lengthening the interval of time in which the car might have passed, for the afternoon was rapidly passing. In their circuit they had now reached the roads pointing to the southward.

"We'll try this one more garage," said Dean, as they approached a wayside shed bearing a large sign "Gasoline."

"I fear it is only wasting time," said Jane wearily.

"Don't you want the Hoffs caught?" snapped her companion.

"Of course I do," she retorted heatedly, "but I don't see you catching them."

"I believe you are half glad of it," snarled her escort as he brought the machine to a stop and repeated his usual question.

"Sure there was a car with two men in it like you describe passed here," the man replied to their amazement and delight. "They stopped here for gas, as they generally do. About three hours ago, I guess it musta been."

Dean shot a triumphant glance at Jane.

"An old man with a gray beard and a smooth-shaven young man driving--does that describe them?" he repeated.

"That's them," said the garage proprietor. "They come through here every few days, always about the same time."

"Where do they go?" questioned Dean eagerly, feeling at last that the scent was growing hot.

The man shook his head in a puzzled way.

"I've often wondered about that. They're always heading south and appear to be in a powerful hurry, but the funny part of it is I ain't never seen them coming back."

"Do you know their names?"

"No, I can't say I do, though it seems as if I'd heard one of them called Fred. I can't say which it was."

"Do they always come by on the same day--on Wednesday?" asked Jane, forgetful once more of Dean's warning to let him do the talking lest her voice should betray her sex.

"Come to think of it," said the man, apparently noticing nothing unusual, "I guess it always is on a Wednesday they come by."

"Is the number of their car anything like this?" asked Dean, exhibiting an entry in his notebook.

"I couldn't say," said the man, studying the figures. "I know it is a New York license, and the number ends with two nines like this one does. What might you be wanting them for?"

He spoke to a cloud of dust, for Dean had started up the motorcycle before he finished speaking and already was speeding away.

"Where now?" asked Jane.

"I don't know," he answered frankly, "I only know we are going the direction the Hoffs went, and I want to gain on them before they get too far ahead. The chap back there had told us all he knew and was beginning to get curious, so I thought it better to vamoose."

"It's funny about his never seeing them coming back."

"Probably there is nothing mysterious about that. I have a notion they always come up one side the river and down the other, taking the 125th Street ferry home. That would not be a bad plan to help them in eluding too curious observers. All these German spies are trained to leave as blind a trail behind them as possible. The thing we have got to discover is what brought them up here. We've just got to find out their destination."

"I am afraid there is little chance of our doing that," insisted Jane. "We've nothing to go on."

"We've learned something. We know that their destination is somewhere between here and Fort Lee on this side of the river. That narrows down the search considerably. That's more, too, than anybody else that the Chief has had on their trail has learned. Something tells me that we are getting warm right now. Obviously the place they come to must be nearer West Point than it is New York. They would hardly take too roundabout a course, even for the sake of hiding their tracks. Keep a sharp lookout for tire tracks leaving the main road."

The route they were following quickly led them into a sparsely inhabited mountainous district and instead of the concreted state highway they found themselves on a hilly dirt road, full of ruts and loose stones that made travel difficult. At times it was all Dean could do to manage the machine, so that he had to leave most of the task of observing the by-ways to