Part 21 (1/2)
”Maybe you are right. Oh, I hope we don't meet them on this trip!” And Laura shuddered; she could not exactly tell why.
The touring trip took the Crumville folks first to the business section of Chicago, and the man in front, with a megaphone, bawled out the various points of interest. Then the touring-cars, in a sort of procession, moved to a residential section, fronting Lake Michigan, with its palatial homes.
”Just as fine as Riverside Drive, New York,” was Dave's comment.
”Every large city in the United States has its beautiful section,”
remarked Dunston Porter.
They were soon in Lincoln Park, and here a stop was made to look at the animals in the Zoo. The young people had a good deal of fun with the monkeys, and with a couple of bears that stood up to box each other.
Five o'clock found the party back to the depot, ready to board the train once more. As they stood near the car steps talking, a porter of the car touched Roger on the arm.
”Excuse me, Mr. Morr,” he said, ”but did you send a man here for your suit-case?”
”I certainly did not!” cried the senator's son.
”You didn't!” gasped the colored porter, and at once showed his excitement. ”Well, one came here, with a written order for your suit-case, and I done gave it to him!”
CHAPTER XIII
DAVE SEES SOMETHING
”You gave somebody my suit-case!” cried the senator's son, while a number of tourists gathered around, to learn what was going on.
”Yes, sah!” returned the colored porter of the car. Plainly he was much distressed. ”He had an order, sah,” he added, and fumbled in one pocket after another, at last bringing out a crumbled bit of writing paper.
”Here it is, sah!”
Roger took the slip and read it, with Dave and Phil looking over his shoulders. The sheet read as follows:
_”Porter, Car Medora: Deliver to bearer my suit-case. Roger A. Morr.”_
”This is a forgery--I never wrote it!” cried the senator's son. ”It's some swindler's trick!”
”I--I didn't know you didn't write it,” faltered the porter. ”I axed the man where you was and he said you was visitin' his house and wanted to show him something you had in the case.”
”Do you know what I think?” exclaimed Dave. ”I think this is the work of Link Merwell!”
”Yes, and Job Haskers,” added Phil. ”They are working together.”
”But why did they steal my suit-case?” asked Roger. ”Do you suppose----?” He stopped short, for strangers were about. He was on the point of mentioning the map and instructions he carried for locating the Landslide Mine. Dave and Phil, as well as Ben and Shadow, understood.
”Did you have anything in the case outside of your clothing?” whispered the s.h.i.+powner's son.
”Only a few things of no importance,” answered Roger. He tapped his breast pocket. ”Those papers are here, and my money is here, too.”
”Good!” murmured Dave. ”Then Merwell and Haskers will be sold--outside of getting your clothing.”
The porter was closely questioned, but could give no very good description of the man who had presented the order for the suit-case.
”I was busy--waitin' on an old lady wot was sick,” he explained. ”I jess read that order and got the suit-case, and he went off in a hurry. I'm mighty sorry I let him have the bag. But he had the order, all signed,”