<h2 id="c22"><span class="h2line1">CHAPTER XXII</span> <br/><span class="h2line2"><i>THE MAJOR’S DISAPPEARANCE</i></span></h2>
<p>Captain Johns pressed his finger steadily on the
elevator signal bell. When the cage did not
immediately ascend, he started up the stairway.
Flash followed him.</p>
<p>“It was the hotel clerk who telephoned me,” he explained.
“Major Hartgrove can’t be located. His
room is empty and there is evidence of a brutal attack!”</p>
<p>“Rascomb—” Flash began only to be cut short.</p>
<p>“How could Rascomb have had anything to do
with it?” Captain Johns demanded with a snort of
impatience. “We were with him for the past twenty
minutes. Young man, you should devote your talents
to picture taking.”</p>
<p>“I’m right about Rascomb,” Flash maintained stubbornly.
“But if you want to drop the matter that’s
your concern. I intend to swear out a warrant for
his arrest on a charge of assault.”</p>
<div class="pagenum" id="Page_179">179</div>
<p>“You couldn’t do a more foolish thing,” the captain
snapped. “No, don’t go. I want to have a talk with
you. But first I must learn what has happened upstairs.”</p>
<p>Flash followed his companion down the corridor to
Room 267. The door stood half open, and several
hotel officials, an excited bellboy and a chambermaid,
already were gathered there.</p>
<p>“What has happened?” demanded Captain Johns
gruffly.</p>
<p>“We don’t know,” answered the hotel manager
nervously.</p>
<p>“I followed your instructions, sir,” the clerk explained.
“In exactly twenty minutes after you left
the lobby I telephoned this room. Failing to arouse
Major Hartgrove I sent a boy up here. This is the
way the room was found. Nothing has been touched.”</p>
<p>Flash gazed curiously about. One of the beds had
been used, the other remained neatly made up. A
chair was overturned. Suitcases lay open, their contents
spread about the floor.</p>
<p>“The room has been ransacked,” the captain muttered.
“And I know what they were after.”</p>
<p>“Can you tell if anything is missing?” asked the
manager.</p>
<p>“Major Hartgrove carried important documents
upon his person.”</p>
<div class="pagenum" id="Page_180">180</div>
<p>Captain Johns made a silent appraisal of the bedroom.
He examined the contents of the suitcases, the
windows opening upon the fire escape, and then questioned
the bellboy and the chambermaid in turn.
Neither had seen strangers on the floor during the past
two hours, nor had they observed Major Hartgrove
since early in the evening.</p>
<p>As the inquiry continued, Flash became aware of
how fast time was slipping away. He was annoyed
at Captain Johns’ slow but thorough way of conducting
the investigation, and he was disgusted because
the army man refused to believe that Rascomb was
an impostor.</p>
<p>“Rascomb had a finger in the Major’s disappearance,”
he thought grimly. “But no one ever will believe
it. I may as well save my breath.”</p>
<p>Knowing that Doyle would be expecting him, he
decided to await the Captain’s pleasure no longer.
Without bothering to explain that he was leaving, he
went to join the <i>News-Vue</i> technician.</p>
<p>“Where’ve you been, Flash?” Doyle greeted him
impatiently. “I’ve kept the car waiting fifteen minutes.”</p>
<p>“I was having a talk with Rascomb.”</p>
<p>“I saw him myself in the lobby. Flash you’re dead
wrong about—”</p>
<p>“Let’s not say anything more about Rascomb tonight
or later,” Flash broke in wearily. “I’m willing
to forget him.”</p>
<div class="pagenum" id="Page_181">181</div>
<p>“Then let’s move,” said Doyle, picking up his suitcase.
“This is a swell hotel! Not even a boy to carry
your luggage!”</p>
<p>“Everyone is in Major Hartgrove’s room.”</p>
<p>“What’s going on there?”</p>
<p>“Oh, nothing of consequence,” Flash remarked, enjoying
the effect of his news. “Major Hartgrove has
been kidnapped—that’s all.”</p>
<p>Doyle stopped short. “Kidnapped!”</p>
<p>“It looks that way. He disappeared from his room,
and the place has been ransacked.”</p>
<p>“This isn’t another of your yarns?”</p>
<p>“Call it that,” Flash shrugged. “I’m tired of trying
to convince anyone of anything.”</p>
<p>“Don’t get sore,” Doyle said placatingly. “Tell me
what happened.”</p>
<p>Relenting, Flash related all which had transpired at
the interview with Gordon and Rascomb, and likewise
told of the summons to Major Hartgrove’s room.</p>
<p>“You’ll scoff,” he ended, “but I think Rascomb
called Johns and me into conference so he would have
an alibi when it was discovered Hartgrove was missing.”</p>
<p>Doyle did not laugh.</p>
<p>“You cling like a leech to your theory that Povy and
Rascomb are the same person.”</p>
<div class="pagenum" id="Page_182">182</div>
<p>“I do. If Captain Johns would have Rascomb arrested,
I could prove in two minutes that my story is
straight. Rascomb can’t get rid of his scar. It was a
transparent trick, covering it up with bandages.”</p>
<p>“Well, I don’t know,” Doyle replied doubtfully.
“You’re honest in your opinion, but I still think you
jumped to conclusions. If I were you, I’d forget about
Rascomb.”</p>
<p>“I intend to do exactly that,” Flash agreed. “But
just wait! When it is too late, Captain Johns will discover
that Rascomb has disappeared.”</p>
<p>“No chance of getting pictures tonight, I suppose,”
Doyle commented thoughtfully. “But maybe the
story will have developed by the time we come back
here tomorrow. What documents was the Major
carrying?”</p>
<p>“I don’t know. Captain Johns hasn’t told me very
much. I would guess they might be specifications or
official reports pertaining to Bailey Brooks’ new invention.”</p>
<p>“And who would be interested in anything of that
sort? Kidnapping is a more dangerous sport than it
once was.”</p>
<p>“Another government could use that parachute, especially
in war time. Povy was dickering with Brooks
for its purchase, and not getting very far.”</p>
<p>“Yes, I remember he was interested in the parachute
test,” Doyle admitted slowly.</p>
<div class="pagenum" id="Page_183">183</div>
<p>“Povy followed Hartgrove on the train. After the
wreck, someone—and I’m satisfied it was Povy—attacked
the Major and tried to rob him.”</p>
<p>“You didn’t tell me that.”</p>
<p>“No.”</p>
<p>“And you figure Povy was the man?”</p>
<p>“I do. Without question it was Povy. To avoid
arrest, he made it appear he had been killed.”</p>
<p>“But see here, Flash, Brooks’ parachute barely had
been successfully tested at the time of the wreck.
Your reasoning is as full of holes as a sieve.”</p>
<p>“I’m not saying what Povy was after. That’s my
guess.”</p>
<p>“Well, it may have been Povy who attacked the
Major the first time,” Doyle conceded. “But to connect
him with Rascomb! I’ve seen both men. They
don’t look alike, they don’t act alike—”</p>
<p>“Okay,” Flash cut in, “let’s skip it. Now where is
the car?”</p>
<p>“In front of the hotel.”</p>
<p>They passed through the revolving doors and moved
to the curb. Doyle looked up and down the street,
finally signaling a driver in a new black touring car.</p>
<p>“We’re riding to Clinton in style,” he grinned.</p>
<p>“So I see. A chauffeur?”</p>
<p>“I picked this man up cheap. With a driver we’ll
both be able to sleep.”</p>
<div class="pagenum" id="Page_184">184</div>
<p>“I can use some,” said Flash.</p>
<p>The car drew up at the curb. Doyle introduced the
chauffeur as Clarence Purcell. He was a sharp-faced
individual of forty with dark eyes and an unpleasant
habit of sniffing his nose at frequent intervals.</p>
<p>“How long will it take to reach Clinton?” Flash
asked him.</p>
<p>“Hard to tell,” the man answered. “There’s a
bridge out East of here. We’ll have to take a detour
which will slow us down.”</p>
<p>“We’ll arrive there by seven o’clock?”</p>
<p>“Oh, sure. Easy! You fellows roll up on the back
seat and leave the driving to me. I’ll get you there.”</p>
<p>The car rode smoothly and Clarence Purcell was a
skilful driver. As soon as they were well out of the
city, Doyle rearranged the cameras to make more foot
room. He stretched out comfortably, pillowing his
head on his overcoat.</p>
<p>“I’m catching forty winks,” he said. “Better do the
same. We’ll have a tough day tomorrow.”</p>
<p>Flash was weary to the point of exhaustion, but for
some reason he could not sleep. His head ached. Disconnected
thoughts kept racing through his mind.</p>
<p>“Maybe I shouldn’t have left Excelsior City without
at least trying to have Rascomb arrested,” he reflected.
“Oh, well, it’s too late now.”</p>
<div class="pagenum" id="Page_185">185</div>
<p>Rolling up on the opposite side of the seat, he closed
his eyes. Sleep refused to come.</p>
<p>Arousing a few minutes later, he surprised Clarence
Purcell in the act of peering over his shoulder into the
back of the car. Observing that Flash was awake, he
quickly turned his head again.</p>
<p>The night was dark. Not a star illuminated the sky.
Glancing out the window, Flash could not see beyond
the hedges which lined the road. Nor was he certain
of his directions.</p>
<p>“Where are we anyway?” he asked the driver.</p>
<p>“Fifty-eight miles out of Excelsior City.”</p>
<p>“I must be turned around. It seems to me we’re
traveling the wrong direction.”</p>
<p>“The road twists.”</p>
<p>Flash settled down again and at length dropped off
to sleep. He awakened to find the car no longer moving.</p>
<p>Straightening up, he looked about him. The automobile
was parked beside the highway not far from an
all-night restaurant and filling station.</p>
<p>The driver had disappeared.</p>
<p>Flash rolled down the window, gazing toward the
lighted café. The main grille room was deserted save
for the proprietress, and a man who appeared to be
using a telephone.</p>
<div class="pagenum" id="Page_186">186</div>
<p>Flash nudged Doyle to awaken him.</p>
<p>“What’s the matter now?” the technician mumbled
drowsily. “Why have we stopped?”</p>
<p>“That’s what I would like to know,” replied Flash.
“Our driver is inside the café telephoning. He’s acting
peculiar.”</p>
<p>Before Doyle could offer an opinion, the chauffeur
came hurriedly toward the car.</p>
<p>“Why have we stopped?” Flash asked him sharply.</p>
<p>“Oh, you’re awake!” the man exclaimed. “I had
to stop to find out about the roads. We took a wrong
turn.”</p>
<p>“How much time have we wasted?” Doyle demanded.</p>
<p>“Not any if we keep going. I found out about
another road we can take. It’s rough for a few miles
but connects with our highway.”</p>
<p>“Okay, let’s be traveling,” Doyle said, curling up
on the seat again.</p>
<p>“Why were you telephoning?” Flash questioned the
driver.</p>
<p>“I called back to the nearest town for road instructions.
No one in the café could give me accurate information.”</p>
<p>“I notice you didn’t inquire at the filling station.”</p>
<p>“The attendant was busy. I knew you were in a
hurry so I telephoned.”</p>
<div class="pagenum" id="Page_187">187</div>
<p>“Never mind,” growled Doyle irritably. “Let’s
get started.”</p>
<p>The car moved on down the road, turning at the
first corner. For the next ten minutes they followed a
narrow, twisting dirt highway which led deep into a
pine woods.</p>
<p>Flash had lost all desire to sleep. The chauffeur’s
explanation did not satisfy him.</p>
<p>As the car bumped on mile after mile over the deserted
road, Doyle too began to show signs of nervousness.</p>
<p>“How much farther?” he asked the driver.</p>
<p>“We’ll soon be where we’re going.”</p>
<p>The words had a ring which Flash did not like.
Turning to Doyle he asked him in an undertone where
he had obtained the driver.</p>
<p>The technician remained silent for a moment. Then
he gave his answer reluctantly.</p>
<p>“You’re not going to like this, Flash, but I may as
well tell you. Rascomb recommended him.”</p>
<p>“Rascomb!”</p>
<p>“Yes, I met him in the hotel lobby and—”</p>
<p>Doyle did not finish for the chauffeur had applied
brakes. Before either he or Flash could act, the man
whirled around, covering them with a revolver.</p>
<p>“Reach!” he ordered harshly. “This is the end of
the line!”</p>
<div class="pagenum" id="Page_188">188</div>
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