CHAPTER 13 Identifying a Prisoner

After laying the trail for the other Cubs to follow, Dan had spent some minutes watching the old hotel at the far end of the island. He too had observed Jacques standing at the window. Greatly excited by the discovery, he left a note for the Cubs and then hastened back to camp to report.

However, neither Mr. Hatfield nor Midge’s father was there, having crossed the river a few minutes earlier.

Dan nervously paced the camp, wondering what he should do. Far across the island, he could hear an occasional shout from the Cubs as they noisily followed the trail he had marked.

After awhile, the boy became aware of the approach of a high-powered speedboat. Turning to look, he was astonished to see that a Webster City police patrol boat was beaching on the island.

As he went down to the water’s edge, a sergeant and plainclothesman stepped out of the boat.

“Is this the Cub camp?” the sergeant inquired.

“Yes, sir, it is,” Dan replied. He wondered what had brought police to the island at such an early hour, or for that matter, at any hour.

“We’re looking for a Mr. Hatfield.”

“He isn’t here just now. But I expect him back in a half hour or so.”

“Mr. Holloway?”

“They’re together.”

“We came to take one of the boys back to the station with us,” the sergeant explained. “A kid by the name of Dan Carter. Is he around?”

Dan drew in his breath, and answered uneasily: “I’m Dan Carter. Why do you want me? What have I done now?”

“Why, nothing—not a thing,” the police officer reassured him. “Weren’t you one of the youngsters who saw the operator of a motorboat that struck Mr. Holloway’s sailboat?”

“That’s right. But how did you know?”

“Oh, we check up,” the sergeant replied with a friendly grin. “Remember the blindman?”

“I did tell him about the crash,” Dan recalled. “He passed the information on to you?”

“Right. You saw the men in that boat?”

“Yes, but not plainly. The boat was running without lights.”

“Think you could identify any of the men if you saw ’em again?”

“One of them, I might.”

“Describe him.”

“Well, he was short and muscular—heavily built. His jaw was sort of square and his face puffy. I couldn’t see the color of his hair, but would say he was on the dark side.”

“That’s a pretty fair description, Dan,” the sergeant praised. “You’re observing.”

“Actually, I think I saw him twice,” Dan replied. “Once in the boat and then again on shore talking to a little fellow with a paper bag. ‘Paper Bag Eddie’, they called him.”

The police sergeant and plainclothesman exchanged a quick glance.

“Kid, you’re the one we need to help us,” the latter said. “Now this is the set-up. We’ve picked up a man we think may have been mixed up in the fur robbery. Also, he may be the one that rammed Mr. Holloway’s boat. We want you to identify him.”

“I don’t know if I can,” Dan said doubtfully. “I’ll be glad to try.”

Excited at the prospect before him, Dan scribbled a note for Mr. Hatfield and the Cubs. This he placed under a pile of stones on the beach where he was certain it would be seen. He then boarded the police boat and was ferried across the river.

At the police station, Dan was told to wait in an ante-room. He sat down, thumbing through the pages of a magazine. Policemen went in and out, but save for an occasional glance at the boy, no one paid any attention to him.

Dan began to wonder if he had been entirely forgotten.

After awhile, he arose and wandered out into the first floor corridor. As he stood there watching men and women pass through from James St. to Whitehill Ave., he suddenly stiffened.

Through the revolving doors came Paper Bag Eddie. The man was alone. His hat had been pulled low over his eyes, and his coat collar was high, but he carried the familiar paper sack.

A policeman, recognizing the man, stopped him for a moment.

“Hello, Eddie,” he said, eyeing him guardedly. “What brings you here?”

“The measles,” Eddie retorted, his thin lips curling into a sneer. “You got nothing on me, copper. It’s a free corridor, ain’t it?”

“Just keep moving, Eddie.”

“I’m here to pay a traffic fine,” the man replied. “Any law against it?”

“Go ahead,” the policeman said. “Just make it snappy and get out. We don’t want you loitering around here.”

Eddie eyed the police officer insolently, but made no reply. Passing Dan, he entered a door which bore a sign: “Pay Traffic Fines Here.”

However, he did not remain three minutes inside the room. No sooner had the policeman stepped into one of the court rooms, than Eddie emerged into the corridor again.

His fox-like eyes darted back and forth, noting that no other policemen were anywhere in sight.

This ascertained, he sidled over to Dan.

“You’re here to identify a man you’re supposed to have seen in a motorboat,” his purring voice said. “Get this! You never saw the guy before.”

Taken by surprise, Dan stared at Eddie and made no reply.

“Have some popcorn?” the man invited.

Dan shook his head, and made uncomfortable by those dark boring eyes, moved a step back against the wall.

Eddie had opened the bag. Now he thrust it directly under the boy’s eyes. Dan saw then that it contained not popcorn, but a 32-caliber revolver.

“You never saw the guy before,” Eddie repeated. “If you forget—you’ll hear from me. I got a way of taking care of my friends and them that ain’t.”

Two policemen had emerged from one of the offices. Dan turned to signal to them. Before he could do so, Eddie wheeled and departed by way of the revolving doors.

“You’re Dan Carter?” one of the policemen called, noticing the boy. “They’re waiting for you.”

“That man who was talking to me!” Dan exclaimed. “Did you notice him?”

Neither of the policemen had seen Eddie.

“He threatened me,” Dan revealed. “Warned me not to identify someone in the line-up. And he had a revolver.”

Now very much interested, the policemen went outside the building to look up and down the street. Paper Bag Eddie was nowhere to be seen.

“Probably hailed a taxi and made a quick getaway,” one of the officers said. “Listen, Dan. Don’t pay any attention to what he told you. It was all bluff. You go in there and identify your man if you can.”

“I intend to,” Dan announced, his face grim. “He can’t scare me.”

“Good!” the policeman approved. “Now follow me.”

Dan was led through a series of corridors and up an elevator to an inner room. There he was introduced to Detective Jim Blackwell and Sergeant Amos Davis.

“Now in a moment, several men will walk across a lighted stage in front of you,” Sergeant Davis explained. “You’ll be behind this screen, protected from their view. Don’t say anything, but look closely at each man. If you recognize any of them, tell me later. Got it?”

Dan nodded. His heart pounded with excitement. He had made up his mind to identify the motorboat operator if he possibly could.

But he couldn’t forget about Eddie and the revolver in the paper bag. Somehow he had a feeling that the threat had not been entirely bluff.

The stage now was flooded with blinding light. One at a time, six men walked into Dan’s range of vision.

The first three he had never seen before and resembled no one he had ever known. Dan gave them scarcely a second glance.

At sight of the fourth man in the line-up, he stiffened. Although the fellow tried to look unconcerned, Dan could see that he was worried. He knew him instantly as the sailor he had seen talking to Paper Bag Eddie.

Also, he was reasonably certain that the man was the same one who had operated the motorboat.

“He’s the one!” Dan whispered.

“Sure?”

“Almost positive.”

The men in the line-up were taken away and the stage darkened. Dan then was led to an adjoining room where he was questioned as to his identification and other information.

Dan told the entire story, including his suspicions that Jabowski might be supplying the river pirates with gasoline.

He related also how Jacques had disappeared from the Cave under mysterious circumstances, the theft of the coded message, and finally, of seeing the boy again on the island.

“It gave me a real shock to see him standing there at the window,” he ended the account. “I tried to signal him, but I don’t think he saw me. After awhile, he stepped back out of sight. I figure though that Jabowski is holding him there against his will.”

“You’ve given us some good tips, kid,” the police officer praised Dan. “Maybe we’ll drop around at the island and give it a thorough going over.”

“A raid on the hotel?”

“You might call it that.”

“Whatever you do, don’t arrest any of the Cubs that are camped on the island,” Dan said anxiously.

His remark amused the officer. “You figure we can’t tell a Cub from a crook?” he chuckled.

“I didn’t mean that, sir,” Dan replied, flushing.

“We’ll look out for your friends,” the officer reassured him. “Don’t you worry.”

Orders were given for squad members to contact Mr. Manheim, the island owner, and then to proceed to the old hotel for a search of the premises.

“We’ll take you along with us, Dan,” the officer told him. “You’ll be needed to point out this boy Jacques who is being held a prisoner, you say.”

In the squad car, the boy was driven to Mr. Manheim’s office. As his accusations were repeated, the island owner bristled with anger.

“Tommy rot!” he exploded. “My man Jabowski is to be trusted completely! This boy must be out of his head! Such gratitude. And after all I’ve done for the Cubs!”

After storming about for awhile, Mr. Manheim agreed to accompany police to the island. During the swift boat ride across the river, he refused to speak to Dan.

At the Cub camp, Mr. Hatfield and Midge’s father both had returned. Already they had received a report from Brad and the other boys. But to see Dan arrive with a squad of policemen was something of a surprise.

“I hope you’re making no mistake,” Mr. Hatfield remarked to the boy after he had been informed that the hotel was to be searched. “Mr. Manheim looks as angry as a hornet! If you should be wrong—”

“All the Cubs saw Jacques at the window,” Brad said, coming to Dan’s defense. “The boy must be somewhere on the island.”

While the Cubs and their leaders approached the hotel by an overland route, police made a swift motorboat descent upon the building, tying up at the old dock.

Accompanied by Mr. Manheim, they presented themselves at the front door. There was no response to their knock.

“I should have a key,” Mr. Manheim said, searching for it in his pocket. “Don’t know what became of it. I’ve not used it in six months.”

Just then an upstairs window opened and Jabowski looked down on the group.

“What d’you want?” he demanded. Then, recognizing his employer, he said quickly: “Oh, it’s you, Mr. Manheim.”

“Open the door,” the island owner ordered. “Police insist on searching the place.”

“I’ll be right down,” the caretaker replied, leaving the window.

A moment later he unlocked the front door, staring curiously at the members of the police squad.

“Sorry, our orders are to search the place,” one of the officers apologized. “Mind if we look around?”

“Go ahead,” Jabowski shrugged. “I only work here.”

By this time all the Cubs had reached the hotel. However, except for Dan, Mr. Hatfield would not allow them inside the building.

The lobby of the old hotel had been converted into a makeshift living room. Scantily furnished with a few cast-off pieces of rickety furniture, the floor was unswept and the windows dirty.

Climbing a flight of squeaky stairs, the policemen began a systematic search of the bedrooms. Nearly all were empty and unfurnished.

“Jacques was in the room to the right of the corridor,” Dan said, pointing it out.

The officer thrust open the door. A boy who had been lying on an unmade bed, quickly got to his feet. Fully dressed, he stared first at Dan and then at the policemen.

“This the boy?” the officer demanded.

“Yes, it’s Jacques,” Dan answered as the youth stood mute.

Mr. Manheim and Jabowski had followed the policemen into the bedroom.

“Your name, boy?” the police officer questioned.

“Jacques—Jacques Jabowski.”

“Jabowski? You’re related to the caretaker?”

“He’s my nephew,” Jabowski answered before the boy could speak. “Anything wrong with that?”

The police officer fixed Dan with an annoyed glance. “You didn’t mention a relationship, kid.”

“Well, I didn’t know,” Dan said in embarrassment. “That is, I’d heard Jabowski had a nephew, but I never once thought of his being Jacques. The boy was taken away from the Cave, and when I saw him here—”

“You jumped to wild conclusions,” Mr. Manheim cut in furiously.

“Jacques will tell you I take good care of him and provide him with everything he needs,” Jabowski added.

“But you’ve kept him a prisoner,” Dan accused.

“That’s not so,” Jabowski denied. He gazed hard at his nephew. “You tell ’em, Jacques. Are you held a prisoner here?”

Jacques remained silent.

“Answer up,” Jabowski ordered harshly.

“No!” the boy replied, his face sullen.

“Jacques don’t like it much here in this country,” his uncle explained. “He came over from France six months ago and is learning to speak English.”

“You see,” Mr. Manheim broke in again. “This entire situation has been misunderstood. Everything is in order here. I foolishly gave the Cub Scouts permission to camp on my island and they’ve allowed their imaginations to run riot.”

“If any mistake has been made, it was entirely mine,” Dan said. “But I can’t understand—”

He gazed at Jacques who was looking at him with a strange expression in his eyes. It seemed to Dan that the boy wanted to speak, that he was trying to make something known, and yet was afraid. Dan decided to question him.

“Jacques,” he said earnestly. “Why did you leave the Cave? Who took you away?”

“You came here of your own free will, Jacques,” his uncle replied, putting words in the boy’s mind. “Wasn’t that it? Tell the officers.”

“Yes,” Jacques replied, his eyes downcast. “Oui.”

Obviously disgusted by the turn of events, the policemen made a quick and casual inspection of other rooms in the old hotel.

“Everything seems to be in order here,” they informed Mr. Manheim. “Sorry to have caused you annoyance.”

Mr. Hatfield and Dan also apologized to the island owner. However, he was in no mood to accept an explanation or to forgive.

“I made a mistake allowing the Cubs to come here,” Mr. Manheim declared. “You’ve spread damaging rumors about the island.”

“If that’s the way you feel, we’ll leave at once,” the Cub leader replied. “An error of judgment was made, but under the circumstance, I don’t feel Dan should be too severely criticized.”

The island owner and Mr. Hatfield now stood on the sagging veranda, surrounded by Cubs. A few splatters of rain drove into their faces.

“I’ll not ask you to break camp with a storm coming on,” Mr. Manheim said. “If you’ll leave by tomorrow morning, that will be satisfactory.”

“We’ll endeavor to depart before that. I’ll contact the mainland as quickly as I can and have a launch come to pick up our equipment.”

“Suit yourselves,” Mr. Manheim shrugged. “I’m not driving you away. You’re free to stay until tomorrow morning. After that, I’ll consider it a favor if you’ll not bring the Cubs here again.”

“Rest assured we will remain away, Mr. Manheim.”

“Another thing. I’ve changed my mind about selling the camp site. You readily can see that it would never work out to have Cubs or Scouts here. There would be constant friction.”

“On that point I could give you an argument, Mr. Manheim. However, I realize you’ve made up your mind, so I’ll say no more.”

Leaving Mr. Manheim with Jabowski, the discouraged Cubs trudged back to camp with their leaders. Rain now was falling steadily, adding to the gloom of the boys.

“Brace up, Dan,” Brad said as the two sought the shelter of a tent. “It wasn’t exactly your fault.”

“Sure it was,” Dan insisted. “I’ve messed things up for fair. Mr. Hatfield’s being mighty decent about it, but I can see he’s bothered. And the Scouts will blame us for cutting them out of their camp site.”

“Who wants this old island anyhow? We’ve had plenty of trouble since we came here.”

“All caused by our own wild imagination, as Manheim puts it! Brad, Jacques was hiding the truth from the police! I’m sure of it. He’s completely under the thumb of that uncle of his.”

“Maybe so, but if we can’t prove it, what’s the good in knowing? We’ll be leaving here as soon as this rain lets up.”

Dan nodded gloomily. Already Mr. Hatfield and Midge’s father were making arrangements to have a launch sent from the yacht club. The moment that the storm cleared, he knew an order would be given to strike the tents.

“Brad, if we could talk to Jacques alone, maybe we could get something out of him,” he proposed suddenly.

“Jabowski wouldn’t let us within a mile of the kid.”

“Not if he could help himself.”

Brad regarded Dan speculatively. “You’re suggesting that we try to see him when Jabowski isn’t around, Dan?”

“That’s the general idea. If we could get to him he might talk. I’ve messed things up for the Cubs and I’d like to square myself if I could.”

Brad thought over the proposal. “How’d we get to him?” he asked.

“We’d have to watch the place and sneak in whenever we got the chance.”

“I don’t think it will work,” Brad said slowly. “But I’m willing to try. Shall we tell the other Cubs?”

“Let’s not, Brad. The idea may flop. Let’s just slip away.”

“I’ll leave a note for Mr. Hatfield,” Brad said, scribbling on the page of a notebook he took from his pocket. “If anything should happen that we don’t get back right away, he might worry.”

The older boy left the message in plain view on his bed. Buttoning themselves into their slickers, the pair then quitted the tent. Unnoticed, they followed the shore for a distance, and then sliced through the dunes to the woodland surrounding Jabowski’s place.

As upon the first occasion they had viewed the old hotel, it appeared completely deserted. This time, however, the boys were not deceived.

“Jabowski and his nephew both are inside probably,” Brad said. “Our only chance is to lie in wait until we see Jabowski leave. Then we might try to get in. We’re taking a fearful chance though.”

For three quarters of an hour, the two Cubs shivered in their inadequate shelter of bushes. Rain continued to fall. During the entire time, no one entered or left the hotel.

“We can’t stick here forever,” Brad said at length. “Mr. Hatfield will be sending a searching party after us.”

“I guess my idea was a bum one again,” Dan admitted, brushing a mop of damp hair from his eyes. “Want to leave?”

“Let’s make a tour around the hotel first,” Brad said.

Keeping out of sight, the pair crept through the bushes, completely circling the old building. No one was visible at any of the windows.

Finally they came to the river. Thrusting through a particularly dense thicket, Brad abruptly halted.

“Hello?” he muttered. “What’s this?”

Progress was barred by an accumulation of brush and debris. Pulling some of it aside, Brad saw a dark opening leading back under the rise of ground.

“Gosh, Dan,” he murmured in awe. “This looks like the entrance to the old tunnel Mr. Hatfield told us about.”

“It sure does,” Dan agreed excitedly. “And someone’s found it ahead of us. The sand which blocked the entrance was dug out, and then the opening hidden with all this brush!”

“Let’s find out where it goes!”

With no thought of personal danger, the boys pulled away enough debris to permit them to squeeze through into the dark tunnel.

In years past it had been bricked over, but now water oozed through many breaks in the walls and low ceiling.

“This must lead to the old hotel,” Dan said, groping his way along the damp wall. “Maybe we’ll get in after all!”

Before the boys had gone very far they came upon four sturdy sawhorses where a boat obviously had been allowed to rest while being painted. Varnish and cans of half-used paint remained, but the boat had been removed.

“Dan, I get it all now!” Brad exclaimed. “That boat which struck Mr. Holloway’s sailing craft was painted and outfitted here in the tunnel!”

“And painted to resemble Mr. Manheim’s speedboat!”

“That’s the way I dope it, Dan. Let’s see what lies further on.”

Highly excited by their discovery, the two boys moved rapidly on down the tunnel. Presently, a series of ten stone steps led up to a small bricked room which they judged must be directly beneath the hotel.

But to the disappointment of the Cubs, the room was empty save for a few empty boxes, from which all markings carefully had been removed.

“Dan, you know what I think!” Brad exclaimed, taking care to keep his voice low-pitched so that it would not carry to the rooms above. “This room has been used for the storage of loot!”

“The furs stolen from the warehouse!”

“It wouldn’t surprise me. Why, it was a perfect set-up! The crooks snatched the stuff and made a quick dash across the river. No one became suspicious, because the boat looked exactly like Manheim’s.”

“They unloaded the boxes here, and then if police checked the boat, of course they’d find nothing!”

“Exactly! Then after the theft blew over and police weren’t watching the waterfront as closely, they moved the stuff out and disposed of it.”

“Brad, I was right after all! Jabowski is mixed up in this!”

“Maybe so, but we have no proof,” Brad brought him up short. “While we’re pretty certain in our own minds what happened, the evidence isn’t conclusive. All we have here is a few empty boxes. It doesn’t establish anyone’s guilt.”

“That’s true,” Dan admitted unwillingly. “If we went to the police with this, they’d probably give me the jolly ha-ha again.”

“Let’s see where this tunnel comes out,” Brad proposed.

Quitting the bricked room, the boys followed a dark passageway until they came to a solid oak door. It was locked.

“This is the end,” Brad whispered. “The door must enter the hotel. Jabowski may go back and forth, but he’d never admit it.”

“What do you think we should do?”

“We’ll tell Mr. Hatfield, of course. He may go to the police, but I doubt it. The Cubs already are in Dutch with Mr. Manheim. If we make any more accusations we can’t prove, he’ll have a right to be furious.”

“But this we can prove,” Dan argued. “The tunnel is here.”

“That’s the unfortunate part, Dan. It always has been here. We can’t tie a thing onto Jabowski or those other fellows unless police should catch ’em red-handed.”

“Fine chance of that!”

“They may try to pull another job. What was the date on that coded message?”

“The 24th. I remember because it’s the day of our Pack swimming meet.”

“That date may have significance,” Brad speculated. “But it’s not for us to decide. Let’s get out of here now and give Mr. Hatfield all the facts. Then he can take the responsibility.”

Dan knew that the older boy’s advice was sound and should be followed. But it was with a sinking heart that he followed Brad through the damp tunnel to the river.

He was willing to bet that neither the Cub leader nor police would favor another raid on the island. His attempt to straighten out matters had failed! Time had run out.

Through his bungling, the Cubs would lose their island camp. And there wasn’t a thing he could do.