<SPAN name="startofbook"></SPAN>
<h1>BILL BOLTON <br/><i><span class="smallest">and</span> <br/><span class="small">Hidden Danger</span></i></h1>
<p class="center"><span class="small">BY</span>
<br/><span class="sc">Lieutenant Noel Sainsbury, Jr.</span></p>
<h2 id="c1"><span class="sc">Chapter I</span> <br/><span class="small">THROUGH THE WINDOW</span></h2>
<p>Bang! Bang! Bang!</p>
<p>Bill Bolton, startled from a sound sleep,
sat up in bed.</p>
<p>His room was pitch dark. For a moment
or two he listened to wind whistling through
trees and the swishing pound of a heavy downpour.
Lightning flashed in the bright flare of
a summer electrical storm, and through open
windows he saw rain in steel rods lashing the
darker night.</p>
<p><i>Crash!</i> Bang! Bang!</p>
<p>“Thunder, that’s all,” said young Bolton
and lay down again.</p>
<p>Crack!</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_16">16</div>
<p>Bill was out of bed in a jiffy. He heard
the unmistakable ping of a bullet as it struck
the rainpipe by his farther window.</p>
<p>Crash! Bang!</p>
<p>This time he dropped to the floor and lay
still. The second shot smashed a pane in the
upper window sash and knocked over a copper
water jar that stood on the mantel, sending
it rattling to the floor.</p>
<p>“That lad,” said Bill to himself, “is
perched in a maple. Wild shooting, too—even
in the dark. I wonder what in blazes
he’s aiming at!”</p>
<p>He crept on all fours to the window and
knelt before it, bringing his eyes level with
the sill.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_17">17</div>
<p>Crash! Crack! Bill winced. With the
thunderclap came a ball of red fire. It struck
a large northern maple, shot down the trunk
and vanished into the turf below the spreading
foliage. For an instant trees, shrubbery
and lawn were illuminated with red light.
Bill caught a glimpse of the flower garden
beyond broad lawns, and a group of figures
standing on the drive near the stone wall that
separated the Bolton estate from the highway.
He plainly saw a man drop from the big
maple to the ground. Then as he sprang to
his feet and leaned out of the window, the
glare was gone and black night shut down on
the world again.</p>
<p>“Reach down and give me a hand, Bill!”</p>
<p>The muffled voice came from just below.</p>
<p>“Who is it?” Bill spoke in the same cautious
tone.</p>
<p>“It’s me. Charlie Evans. I’m hangin’ on
by the ivy and this leader—but I can’t find
anything above me to get a grip on.”</p>
<p>“Okay, boy. Let me get hold of your wrist—that’s
it. Mind you don’t slip! The ivy
has been cut away from the windows.”</p>
<p>Bill pulled, caught Charlie beneath his
shoulders and lifted him over the sill.</p>
<p>“Get out of their line of fire,” he ordered.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_18">18</div>
<p>As quickly as possible he closed both windows
and pulled down the green shades. A
moment later he found the wall-switch and
flooded the room with light. Charlie, a
round-faced, red-headed boy of twelve, still
sat on the floor. He was soaked to the skin
and breathing heavily.</p>
<p>Bill gave him one look and disappeared into
the bathroom. When he returned, he brought
a glass of water with him. Charlie grabbed
the tumbler and drained it in a few gulps.</p>
<p>“That’s the berries!” he wheezed. “Got
another?”</p>
<p>“Soon—too much in a hurry will make you
sick. Are you hurt? I mean, did those guys
wing you? I take it that you were the target
they aimed at.”</p>
<p>“I sure was, Bill, but they’re rotten shots.
Gee, I’ve had a time of it, I tell you. Can’t
I have another drink now? I’ve been running
ever since they punctured the tires and I’m
dry as an empty well.”</p>
<p>“All right, but take your time drinking it.”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_19">19</div>
<p>Bill followed Charlie into the bathroom.
“You may be dry inside, but those clothes of
yours are soaking wet. Get out of them and
take a good rub down. And put on that bathrobe
on the door. If I’m not in the bedroom
when you’re through, wait for me there—I’ll
be back as soon as possible.”</p>
<p>He went into the bedroom, and from there
into the hall. A night light was burning at
the foot of the staircase. Thunder still rumbled
in the distance but the storm was passing
over. Bill ran lightly down to the lower floor.
For a second he hesitated, then went into
the library on his right and shut the door behind
him.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_20">20</div>
<p>This room was on the same side of the house
as his bedroom. He went at once to a side
window, and pulling up the shade a couple
of inches, peered into the night. For a time
he could see nothing. Then as his eyes grew
accustomed to the darkness, he made out the
shadowy forms of six men in a group on the
driveway near the house. While he watched,
they separated, and one walked back to the
entrance, the others took up positions behind
the trees that lined the drive.</p>
<p>“Queer,” muttered Bill. “They evidently
think he’s coming out again.”</p>
<p>He pulled down the shade and went upstairs.
Charlie was curled up in an armchair,
wrapped in the bathrobe, that was at least
six sizes too big for him.</p>
<p>“Well, what’s up?” he asked, as his tall,
broad-shouldered young friend came into the
room.</p>
<p>“They’re posted along the drive.”</p>
<p>“Gee, we’ll never get out of here tonight,”
grumbled the youngster.</p>
<p>“Suppose,” said Bill, “you start at the beginning
and tell me why we have to leave here
tonight. What you’re doing here in Connecticut—all
about it, in fact.”</p>
<p>“Well, let’s see—” Charlie yawned prodigiously.
“I don’t know where to start.”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_21">21</div>
<p>“You don’t have to start so very far back,”
prompted Bill. “We came up to New York
from Washington together a little over two
weeks ago.”</p>
<p>“We sure did! After you got that medal
pinned on you by the President—gosh!—I
never thought I’d shake hands with the President
of the United States—and have him tell
me I was a hero—before all those people,
too! It was swell!”</p>
<p>“Maybe you thought so,” Bill smiled
wryly. “I didn’t.”</p>
<p>“Aw!—Say, what’s become of Osceola and
the two Heinies?”</p>
<p>“I’ll tell you the dope later. Never mind
that now. I want to know how you happened
to land in New Canaan at this time of
night—and chased by a gang of thugs who
don’t mind trying to pot you! What’s the
big idea?”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_22">22</div>
<p>“Oh, all right, all right. Keep your shirt
on!” Charlie yawned again. “After the big
doings in Washington, Mother and I went up
to our summer place at Marblehead. Dad
didn’t come with us. He stayed in Boston.
Let’s see—today is Tuesday—”</p>
<p>“Wednesday morning,” interrupted Bill,
with a glance at his wristwatch. “It’s after
two.”</p>
<p>“K-rect. Well, last Friday night Mother
got a telegram from Dad, telling her to send
me up to Clayton, Maine.”</p>
<p>“Why, that’s the burg near Twin Heads
Harbor where we got the <i>Flying Fish</i> and
the <i>Amtonia</i>!” exclaimed Bill in surprise.</p>
<p>“Yep, that’s the dump. Well, Mother
didn’t want to let me go alone—but I went,
just the same. Dad said in his wire that nobody
should come with me. Of course,
Mother had a fit, but Dad had said it was important.
Anyhow, I got to Clayton Saturday
night, and Dad met me with a car at the station.
He told me he had bought a house near
the shore, so we drove over there.”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_23">23</div>
<p>“Is the house anywhere near Twin
Heads?”</p>
<p>“Yes, it stands back from a small cove about
a mile south of the Heads. Baron von Hiemskirk’s
old quarters at the other end of Twin
Head Harbor are about three miles away
through the woods, I guess. And say, Bill,
that sure is some queer house!”</p>
<p>“Why, what’s wrong with it?”</p>
<p>“Oh, the house is all right—a big barn of
a place. But Dad has it locked up like a
prison. There are solid wooden shutters to all
the ground floor windows, and he keeps them
barred day and night. We got in through an
underground passage from the garage.”</p>
<p>“That does sound queer. Who else was
there?”</p>
<p>“Nobody. Dad’s camping out in that house
alone. Naturally, I wanted to know all about
it.”</p>
<p>“What did your father tell you?”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_24">24</div>
<p>“Not a darn thing! He told me not to
ask questions. Said the less I knew, the better
off I’d be. Sunday night somebody tried to
break into the place. Dad fired at him
through an upper window, but the man got
away, I think.”</p>
<p>“It looks as if Mr. Evans were hiding from
something or somebody,” Bill said thoughtfully.</p>
<p>“It certainly does,” acquiesced Charlie.
“But I couldn’t find out a thing. He wouldn’t
let me go out of the house alone the whole
time I was there.”</p>
<p>“Funny business. When did you leave?”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_25">25</div>
<p>“Monday night. That noon after lunch,
Dad told me to turn in and go to sleep—said
he had a job for me that night. He woke
me up for supper, and afterwards he told me
he wanted me to fetch you up there. He
said ‘Tell Bolton I need him—need him
badly. Say that I know he will be going back
to Annapolis in about a month, and I hate taking
time from his holidays. But tell him that
this job won’t take long and that I believe
it will be even more exciting than that Shell
Island business, or the affair of the <i>Flying
Fish</i>.’”</p>
<p>Bill slapped his knee. “I’ll go! This is
my lucky day.”</p>
<p>“What do you mean, your lucky day?”</p>
<p>“My birthday, kid. That’s what.”</p>
<p>“Many happy returns,” grinned Charlie,
and yawned. “How old does that make you?”</p>
<p>“Seventeen,” replied Bill, and he too,
yawned.</p>
<p>“That’s the nerts,” sighed Charlie. “I
won’t have one for four years!”</p>
<p>“What? Born on February twenty-ninth?”</p>
<p>“Yep—ain’t it the limit?”</p>
<p>Bill laughed. “Too bad. But did your
father say anything else?”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_26">26</div>
<p>“Heaps. About how I should drive to get
here. I was to drive all night, go to the
Copley-Plaza in Boston and sleep there Tuesday.
Tuesday night—that’s tonight, I was to
leave there at eight and take the Post Road
to Darien. From there on, he told me exactly
how to find your house. Lucky he did. I’d
never have reached here after those bozos held
up the car, otherwise.”</p>
<p>“Where was that?”</p>
<p>“Just inside the New Canaan line, near
that flying field. I was makin’ that right turn
when a guy jumps into the road and holds up
his hand.”</p>
<p>“What did you do?”</p>
<p>“Gave her the gun, of course. But I missed
him,” Charlie said ruefully. “Then two or
three more of them started shooting. When
the tire burst I went into the ditch. The car
didn’t turn over—so I hopped it. I kept in
the shadows of the trees. It was raining, and
black as your hat, anyway. Soon a car passed
me, going slow. Didn’t see hide nor hair of
the bunch again until I climbed your stone
wall. Then I ran smack into ’em.”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_27">27</div>
<p>“You did!”</p>
<p>“Surest thing you know! We played hide
and seek round the grounds, then I saw your
open window. The storm broke about that
time. Kind of upset them, maybe. Anyhow,
I made for the ivy—and well—you know the
rest.”</p>
<p>“Good boy!” Bill smiled and slapped him
on the shoulder. “Any further instructions
from your Dad?”</p>
<p>“He said we were to start back at once.
Drive to Boston. Sleep there tomorrow and
drive up to Maine tomorrow night. He told
me to hurry—said that every hour counted,
and to bring along Osceola if he was here.”</p>
<p>“The Chief and my father went to New
York for a few days. They won’t be home
until the end of the week. They may go to
Washington, too. Some business connected
with Osceola’s Seminoles. I’m alone here
with the servants. Well, it’s too bad, but
we’ll leave a note for him.”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_28">28</div>
<p>“Gee, I’m sorry. Osceola would be just
the guy for a stunt like this. But how can
we make it, Bill? Take one of your old man’s
cars? Mine is a wreck, down by the flying
field.”</p>
<p>“We’ll do better than a car,” pronounced
his friend. “My Loening is stabled in the
hangar.”</p>
<p>“Gee! The amphibian!”</p>
<p>“That’s right. Now we’ll hunt you up
some clothes, get some chow, leave that note
for Osceola—and take off.”</p>
<p>Charlie jumped up from his chair. “But
how can we? How about that gang outside?”</p>
<p>“Ask me something easy,” Bill suggested,
and started to dress.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_29">29</div>
<div style="break-after:column;"></div><br />