The Radio Detectives Part 17

"But _are_ they bootleggers?" asked Frank.

"No doubt," replied Mr. Pauling, "and many other worse things. When Murphy and Rawlins arrive we'll probably know more and if the wounded man confesses we'll solve many mysteries which remain to be unraveled."

"Well, I'm mighty glad the old under-sea radio worked," declared Tom, "but I wouldn't go through that experience again, not for-no, not for Uncle Sam himself."

At this moment the doorbell rang and a moment later Rawlins dashed into the room, his eyes bright and a happy grin on his boyish face.

"I'll tell the world it's great!" he exclaimed, "They got pretty near everything-booze, trucks, men, and that mysterious radio. And a truckload of books and papers-cleaned out a regular nest. That man Murphy is a corker, Mr. Pauling. He said to tell you he'll be over in a little while. They were just cleaning up when I left."

Tom jumped up. "Hurrah!" he cried. "Then we were right all along! We always said that fellow was one of a bootlegger gang. Gee, Frank! They can't laugh at radio or radio detectives now. It wins!"

"I'll say radio wins!" cried Rawlins.

CHAPTER XII

THE CONFESSION

Before the conversation could be continued, the desk telephone rang and Mr. Pauling instantly answered.

"h.e.l.lo!" the boys heard him say. "h.e.l.lo! Good! Right away. Call Henderson. Yes, have everything ready. He'll live perhaps? Yes, Henderson will bring Ivan. Keep a record of everything. Good-by!"

As he ceased speaking, Mr. Pauling sprang up. "It's Doctor Hewlett," he announced as he started for the door, "The man's regaining consciousness. He may talk at any moment and I must rush there. If Murphy calls, send him over."

An instant later, Mr. Pauling was hurrying to his car and the boys, Mrs.

Pauling and Rawlins commenced discussing the events which had followed one another so rapidly during the past few hours.

Rawlins had to tell the story all over again to Tom's mother and Frank gave his version. Then all speculated on what the mystery surrounding the submarine and the raid on the garage might be.

"It's rather too bad that Fred can't tell us anything yet," said Mrs.

Pauling, "but I realize, in his position, secrecy must be maintained.

However, after it's all over I suppose we shall know-that is, if the newspapers don't tell us first. They usually manage to find out such secrets somehow."

"Well, I admit I can't see head nor tail to it," declared Rawlins. "Of course, as long as Mr. Pauling says those chaps are Russians and were talking Bolshevik I suppose they are and were; but I _know_ that sub was a Hun boat-not one of the big, latest U-boats, but the kind that was over on our coast here once or twice. I've done a lot of work studying submarines and they can't fool me. Now, of course there's no reason why a Russian should not use a German sub if he could get hold of it, but what were they doing over here in the East River is what gets me. I don't believe they were just rum-runners, even if Murphy and his crowd did find a lot of booze over there, and what was that cigar-shaped sub-sea gadget they were pulling along with 'em?"

"Why, I think that's all simple," declared Tom. "They probably brought liquor in here with the submarine and carried it to the garage in that torpedolike thing."

Rawlins shook his head. "No, old man," he replied. "A sub would never do for a rum-runner. Why, every port in the West Indies is watched and the whole world would hear if a sub poked her nose into a harbor and tied up to a dock to load rum. It's too bad we didn't tackle those chaps out there before they got to the sub. We might have brought in that torpedo arrangement, too."

"Gee, I'd forgotten all about that!" exclaimed Tom. "What became of it?"

"Why, didn't I tell you?" replied Rawlins. "They shoved it into the submarine. I was watching 'em do that when they spotted me. If they'd had sense they'd have gone in after it and cleared out, but instead, they had to try rough-house stuff and got left. I expect they thought we'd seen too much and didn't know I was armed. Then, when their mates in the sub heard you yelling for help and heard Frank's replies, they thought the game was up and pulled stakes without stopping for the two chaps below."

"I wonder if they'll get her-the destroyers, I mean," said Frank.

"I doubt it," replied Rawlins. "The sea's a mighty big place and the Lord knows where she'll emerge. No knowing which way she headed either.

For all any one knows she may have scooted over to some hangout on Long Island or swung around up the Hudson or slipped into the sound or stood out to sea. But I doubt if she'll try getting out of the harbor submerged. Too risky. She might b.u.mp into a liner or a s.h.i.+p any minute and she'd have to go blind-no periscope out, you see, because she'll know we'd have chasers, looking for her. No, I expect they'll submerge, rest on the bottom in shallow water somewhere and wait until night. Then she could sneak out to sea with just her conning tower out. There's about one chance in a million of finding her and that's the only way we slipped up. Just as soon as I saw her I knew something crooked was going on-knew it soon as ever I put eyes on those fellows in self-contained suits-infringing my patents, darn 'em-and I planned to get back and notify the authorities. Then we could have nabbed her and her whole crew. Slipped up by letting those Bolshevik birds spot me. And Tom-did you notice those fellows didn't have those gadgets on their helmets? How do you suppose they worked their radio without 'em?"

"Gos.h.!.+" exclaimed Tom. "I didn't think of it at the time, but it's so.

Say, what became of their suits? We can examine their outfits and find out all about it."

"Suits are safe enough down at the dock," Rawlins a.s.sured him. "You'll have some fun examining them, I'll say."

"Why didn't you ask Mr. Murphy all about what it meant?" inquired Frank, who had been pondering on the mystery.

Rawlins gave a hearty laugh. "You don't know friend Murphy," he answered. "I'll say I asked him, but you might as well ask a lamp-post.

I know why they call potatoes Murphys now-all eyes and no mouth. That's him, too. Nice and pleasant and everything, but not a mite of information. When I asked him first time he just looked me all over as if I was some kind of a rare specimen. 'Mr. Pauling says youse is on the level,' he said, 'and I'll take his word if he says the devil himself has turned saint. But my orders is to say nothing to n.o.body till I reports to Mr. Pauling and my orders stays orders till he gives me new ones. He's told me to let youse in here and to look after youse and that I'm doin', but never a word did he say about tellin' of youse anything, an' that I won't. What youse can see youse can see and welcome and what youse may overhear youse can hear, but I'd advise youse to not repeat it, and now draw your own conclusions.'"

The boys laughed. "He looked like that," said Frank. "I can just imagine him saying it."

"And what did you say?" inquired Mrs. Pauling. "I have met that man Murphy-he's one of Fred's right-hand men."

"Oh, I knew he was right and just slapped him on the back and told him he was a good skate and I'd put in a good word for him at any time. Told him I didn't want to b.u.t.t in and wouldn't bother him with any more questions."

"Didn't you see anything?" asked Tom.

"About as much as you could see when we were in the crowd in the car,"

laughed Rawlins. "The garage wasn't packed full, but there were about a million plain-clothes men and police there and Lord knows how many trucks, and everything that was going on was in the center. But I did see them piling a lot of boxes and papers and a lot of radio stuff into a truck and I heard a policeman smack his lips and say: 'Glory be, but it's a burnin' shame to think of all the good booze that's goin' to waste nowadays. Sure it makes me throat feel dry as a load of hay to think of it.'"

"Perhaps," suggested Mrs. Pauling. "These men you found have some connection with the Bolshevist threats and crimes that the papers say are taking place. Fred never lets us know much of what is going on, as he thinks I'll worry. But whatever it is, I feel sure it has something to do with the troubles and worries Fred has had recently. Both he and Mr. Henderson have been working hard both day and night on something and Fred has looked as if he had some great problem on his mind."

"Well, I hope it's that," declared Tom. "Say, wouldn't it be great if we really _had_ helped Dad and the government on something more important than smuggling liquor."

"There's the bell again," exclaimed Frank. "Perhaps that's Mr. Murphy."

Frank's surmise proved correct and Mrs. Pauling repeated her husband's orders to him. Scarcely waiting to hear, the detective turned and hurried off.

"I suppose we might as well have dinner," said Mrs. Pauling, after Murphy had gone. "There's no use waiting for Fred, he may be away all night. You'll have dinner with us, won't you, Mr. Rawlins?"

Dinner over, the four returned to the library and hour after hour dragged on with no word from Mr. Pauling.

Finally, Rawlins rose to go and was saying good night when the front door opened and Mr. Pauling, Mr. Henderson and the detective Murphy arrived.

"Didn't wait dinner for me, did you?" cried Tom's father, a note in his voice that his wife knew meant relief and elation. "Glad you didn't.

Sorry we were so late, but couldn't get away a minute sooner. Didn't even have a chance to telephone to you. But we're as hungry as bears. I suppose there's a bite to eat."

Then, seeing Rawlins, hat in hand, he continued, "Don't go, Rawlins.

Soon as we've eaten we'll try to satisfy your curiosity and the boys'

and," he added mischievously, "the wife's, even if she does say she hasn't any."

"They're in mighty good spirits," declared Rawlins when the three men had disappeared in the direction of the dining room. "So I guess everything's come out O. K."

"Yes, Fred's had a great load lifted from his mind, I know," agreed Mrs.

Pauling, "and I'm very glad. I've really been worried about him lately."