"That goes for me, too," said Joe. "Set your own time, Mr. Brandon."

"Well, then, suppose you both meet me at Hall's garage at eight sharp to-morrow morning," proposed Frank Brandon. "I'll hire a good car and be all ready to start by that time."

"We'll be there on the dot," promised Bob, and they all shook hands on the bargain.

Bob and Joe made their purchases, said goodbye to the radio inspector, and left the store excitedly discussing their chances of locating the rascal Ca.s.sey and perhaps recovering Nellie Berwick's stolen money.

When they parted to go home, each renewed his promise to be on time the following morning, and went his way filled with hope that at last the scoundrel would perhaps be brought to justice.

"But I wish we could be sure that that old rascal would be caught up with and be made to give back Miss Berwick's money," reflected Bob, as he turned in at his own home. "She's in Clintonia again. I saw her at a distance to-day."

CHAPTER XXV

THE PRIZE

But before going to bed that night, Bob had an idea which he proceeded at once to put into execution, with the result that there were some lively telephone exchanges and considerable excitement in various quarters.

The fruit of his work was seen the following morning, when, on reaching Hall's garage, Mr. Brandon, instead of finding only the two boys waiting for him, found also Miss Nellie Berwick and a Mr. Edgar Wilson, a keen, wide-awake lawyer of Clintonia, whom Miss Berwick had retained to look after her interests.

"I tried to get you also on the telephone last night, Mr. Brandon,"

Bob explained, after introductions had been made, "but I couldn't find you in. So I took the liberty of asking Miss Berwick and Mr. Wilson to go along with us on the chance that we might round up Dan Ca.s.sey."

"That's all right," responded Mr. Brandon warmly. "The boys have already told me, Miss Berwick, of the dastardly trick that fellow played on you, and I shall be only too happy to have you and your lawyer go along with us. It would give me the keenest satisfaction to see that fellow get his deserts."

Miss Berwick thanked him heartily and the party took their places in the automobile, which held five persons comfortably and was of a modern type. That it was speedy was soon proved by the way it sped along the road under the skillful guidance of Mr. Brandon. A rain two days before had laid the dust, and the roads were in perfect condition. In a surprisingly short time they had come in sight of Lansdale, a little village on the coast.

They stopped at the post-office and Brandon climbed out of the car and went in. The postmaster eyed him warily, and was at first somewhat disinclined to give any information, but the sight of the badge that proclaimed Mr. Brandon a government official unloosed his tongue and he talked freely.

"Know anybody about here by the name of Ca.s.sey?" asked Mr. Brandon.

"Ca.s.sey? Ca.s.sey?" repeated the postmaster ruminatively. "No, there's n.o.body of that name around here. Or if there is, he's never been to this office to get his mail."

"The man I'm speaking of stutters--stutters badly," said the inspector. "Is there any one like that in town?"

"Just one," replied the postmaster. "And he stutters enough for a dozen. Worst case I ever knew. Gets all tangled up and has to whistle to go on. But his name's Reddy."

"Has he been here long?" pursued the inspector.

"Oh, a matter of a month or two," was the reply. "Never saw him before this year. Thought perhaps he was one of the early birds of the summer visitors that was rushing the season."

"Where does he live?" asked Mr. Brandon.

"Just a little way up the street," replied the postmaster. "Come to the window here and I'll show you the house."

He pointed out a little cottage of rather dilapidated aspect, above which the keen eye of Mr. Brandon saw the end of an aerial.

He thanked the postmaster and went out to his party.

"I think we have our game bagged all right," he remarked, and rejoiced to see the light that came into Miss Berwick's eyes, "but of course I'm not sure as yet."

He told them the result of his inquiries, and they were delighted.

"I tell you what I think we had better do," he suggested. "I propose that we leave the automobile here and go up to the house on foot.

Three of us will go in, while Miss Berwick and Mr. Wilson will stay out of sight at the side of the house until they get the sign to enter. The surprise may lead to confession and rest.i.tution if properly managed."

The others signified their consent to this and proceeded toward the house. Miss Berwick and her lawyer stood at the side, where they could not be seen from the door, and the inspector, followed by the boys, mounted the steps and rang the bell.

There was a moment's delay and then the door opened. A short thick-set man stood there with his hand on the k.n.o.b. He wore large horn gla.s.ses, which may have been because of defective sight or possibly as a disguise. The eyes behind the gla.s.ses were furtive and shifty, and the mouth was mean and avaricious.

"Is this Mr. Reddy?" asked the inspector politely.

"Th-th-that's my name," answered the man. "W-what can I do f-f-for you?"

"That depends," replied Mr. Brandon. "I called to see you on a matter of business. May I come in?"

The man eyed his visitors with a look of apprehension and annoyance, but finally a.s.sented with a nod of his head and led the way into a small and meagerly furnished living room.

"I see that you have a radio set here," remarked Mr. Brandon, seating himself and looking around the room.

"Y-y-y-yes," stuttered the man. "W-what about it?"

The inspector threw back his coat and showed his badge. At the sight of this symbol of authority the man gave a violent start.

"I happen to be a radio telephone inspector," explained Mr. Brandon.

"O-oh," said the man, visibly relieved that it was no worse. "W-why do you want to see me?"

"Because you've been violating the government regulations," replied the inspector sternly. "There have been a number of complaints against you, and you've got yourself into serious trouble."

As he spoke he crossed his legs, which was the sign agreed on, and unseen by the man who during this conversation had had his back toward the boys, Bob tiptoed out to the street and beckoned to Miss Berwick and her lawyer, who followed him promptly and softly into the room.

"I'm s-s-sorry," the man was saying at the moment. "I d-d-d-didn't mean--"

Just then Bob slammed the door shut with a bang. The man jumped, and as he turned about came face to face with Miss Berwick, who stood regarding him with a look of scorn.

So startled was the man that his gla.s.ses dropped from his nose and he had to grasp a chair to hold himself steady. His face turned a greenish hue and rank fright came into his narrow eyes.

"How do you do, Mr. Ca.s.sey?" asked Miss Berwick. "Do you happen to have my mortgage with you?"

"Mr. Ca.s.sey?" repeated Mr. Brandon with affected surprise. "He told me his name was Reddy. How about it?" he asked, and his voice had the ring of steel. "Have you been trying to deceive a government officer?"

The detected rascal dropped weakly into the chair whose back he had been holding. He seemed near total collapse.

"Come now," said Mr. Wilson, stepping forward and tapping him on the shoulder, "the game's up, Ca.s.sey. We've got you at last. The money or the mortgage, Ca.s.sey. Come across with one or the other and come across quick. It's that or jail. Take your choice."

Dan Ca.s.sey, shaking in every limb, tried to temporize, and stuttered until he got red in the face and seemed on the point of apoplexy.