The Banner Boy Scouts Mystery

The boys were breathless; they couldn’t imagine what the man was up to. With one bound he was at their side and untying their bonds. “It’s a lucky thing I got here in time,” he muttered.

He helped them to their feet and motioned for them to follow him. He ran up the stairs and through the trap door. “Now run for your lives,” he told them.

The boys hesitated. Paul said, “We want to thank you for saving our lives and—”

The man cut him short with a wave of his hand. “No time to lose,” he whispered rapidly. “Go.”

“Who are you?” asked Jack.

The man shook his head and pushed them through the door. “Go,” he commanded them for a second time.

The boys went out of the house and signalled to Ken to follow them. But he needed no signal. He was on the alert, waiting for them and frantic with worry. He jumped out of his hiding place and joined his two friends. “I thought you were goners, sure,” he cried.

They sprinted away down the street. “What do you mean?” asked Jack as they ran.

“I saw Mr. Grey enter the house and—”

Jack stopped dead in his tracks. “Say!” he exclaimed, “where did he disappear to? Did you notice, Paul?”

Paul shook his head. “No,” he answered. “I guess we were so excited we didn’t notice.”

“What happened?” asked Ken.

“Tell you later,” answered Paul. “Finish what you started to say.”

“Well, as I was saying I saw Mr. Grey enter the house and I became frantic. I whistled and whistled but evidently you didn’t hear me. I couldn’t imagine what might happen to you and I couldn’t think of anything to do or how to help. I waited and it seemed to me like a year. I was already preparing to go down there myself when you two came out.”

“Nothing else happened?” asked Jack.

“Nothing else,” was the reply. “Wasn’t that enough?”

They slowed down to a walk as they approached Main Street. “Now tell me what happened to you,” said Ken.

“Plenty happened,” remarked Paul, “but let’s wait until we get to the garage where we can discuss the whole thing.”

At their destination, they sat down to rest. Paul and Jack heaved a sigh of relief. “What a close shave!” exclaimed Paul.

“Well, tell me, what happened?” asked Ken.

Between them, the two boys narrated the events that befell them while Ken gasped and could hardly believe it. When the story was all told, he exclaimed, “Say, this thing is getting to be dangerous. We have to do something about it.”

“Yes,” agreed Paul. “And we have to do it quickly. In all likelihood, those gangsters are going to return to that cellar, if they haven’t already. Seeing that we escaped, they will probably try to get away by tonight.”

“We have to move fast then,” added Jack.

“But what are we going to do?” asked Ken. “What can we do?”

Paul leaned forward and whispered to his companions, “The police!” It struck them all at once that lately they had not thought of the police who might have saved them a lot of trouble and who were the most logical people to tell. Paul continued, “We have to tell the police right away before it is too late.”

“But wait a minute,” remarked Jack. “Do you think they will believe us. They are liable to think that we are inventing it all.”

“We have to convince them, that’s all there is to it.”

“We most surely do,” added Ken. “There is nothing we can do ourselves.”

“Oh, yes, there are lots of things we could do ourselves if we only thought of it,” commented Jack. “I don’t know how wise it is to tell the police. They may just take us for a bunch of crazy kids.”

“As I said,” repeated Paul, “we have to convince them.”

“I wonder how Mr. Grey fits into the situation. I would give a penny to know,” said Jack.

“So would we all,” commented Paul. “But we don’t have any time to lose, so let’s get going.”

“Do you think we will be able to see Chief Bates himself?” asked Jack.

“I think I can manage that,” replied Ken. “He knows me and I’ll ask to see him.”

“All right, let’s go,” said Jack.

CHAPTER XXI

Convincing the Police

The boys headed for police headquarters. They undertook their task with trepidation, wondering how they would be received, feeling that possibly it was an unwise course to take, that perhaps if they tried they might capture the gangsters themselves without having to be ridiculed by unbelieving police. And coming to think of it, all the evidence at their command was flimsy, in many cases unreasonable and illogical. Besides, they were youngsters, and if they narrated all the events, they would be considered mentally distorted. The fact that they were perfectly normal and were sincere and truthful was beside the point. It was whether they would be able to convince that would tell the tale.

They were very silent as they walked down Main Street toward police headquarters. Each one was thinking his own thoughts about the past week. Jack asked himself what the best approach might be. Paul tried hard to think how to narrate the story so that it would sound convincing, and in his mind he went over the words and phrases that he thought would be most suitable to use. Ken was thinking that with the police entering the case it would be soon ended and their mystery solved. But would it be?

Suppose the gang of counterfeiters were caught, what then? The boys had started out to solve the mystery of the white card—who was responsible for leading Betty away to the end of the town? Who was responsible for the fires? Who was responsible for the robbery at Professor Link’s? And these three things were linked together by virtue of the white card. The boys felt so convinced of the white card as a clue, that if it were found to be not so, they would be badly disappointed.

Jack muttered skeptically, “I hope we don’t get thrown out before we get a chance to see Chief Bates.”

Ken assured his friend, “Oh, you’ll see him all right. The important thing is, can you convince him?”

Paul laughed and joked, “Whether we convince him or not, wouldn’t it be a fine predicament if to crown all our effort and glory, Chief Bates throws us into jail.”

“What for?” demanded Ken.

“For any number of reasons,” answered Paul. “He might put us away to cool us off. Or he might jail us for doing detective work without a license.”

“You don’t need a license to be an amateur detective,” argued Ken.

“Amateur is a perfect word for it,” ironically commented Jack. “He will think we are a bunch of amateurs running wild.”

“Well, let’s not anticipate his reception of us. The chief might give us a bunch of onions for a prize and that would be something,” remarked Paul.

“I’m hungry,” exclaimed Ken. “Let’s go in for an ice cream soda.”

“That’s the perfect idea,” agreed Paul. “And I hope it will put us into the right spirit.”

“Most likely it will cool us off,” remarked Jack. “But I’ll also have a soda.”

They entered a drugstore and ordered three ice cream sodas. As Jack said, it cooled them off, but it also picked them up in spirits. They emerged smiling, cheerful, confident. The police headquarters was a short distance away and they were soon in front of the building. They hesitated before entering. Each one of them felt his heart sink low and his pulse begin to throb. Paul shrugged his shoulders and commented, “Well, as the saying goes, faint heart never won fair maiden. Let’s go in.”

They entered the hall. At one side was a desk with a sergeant behind it. “Yes, boys,” he called to them, “What do you want?”

Ken said, “I want to see Chief Bates; my name is Ken, Ken Armstrong.”

The policeman smiled patiently. “The chief is very busy, you know, and unless you have important business with him, you can’t see him.”

Jack piped up, “Oh, it’s very important.”

Paul pulled his friend away. Ken said confidently, “Oh, he will see me all right. You see, he knows me. Just say that Ken Armstrong wants to see him.”

“And what shall I say is your business with him?” inquired the sergeant, amused at the boy’s self confidence.

“It’s personal. Just say I would like to see him.”

The policeman nodded and very lazily picked up his telephone. “Hello, hello,” he called into the speaker, “give me the chief’s office.” He waited for several seconds, in the meanwhile looking the boys up and down. Again he spoke into the mouthpiece, saying, “There’s a boy here by the name of Ken Armstrong who wants to see the chief. Says that the chief knows him and will surely—most surely—see him.” The policeman scowled as he said that. Again he waited for an answer. Several seconds later, he answered, “All right.”

He hung up the receiver and turned to Ken. “I guess he knows you all right.” Ken was overjoyed while his two friends were glad and cheerful. “Go down to the end of the corridor,” directed the sergeant, “and then turn left. On the door that says Police Chief, go in there and his secretary will take care of you.”

“Thank you,” said Ken.

The three boys walked down the corridor and turned left. They entered the office of the Chief of Police and his secretary, a very attractive young woman, greeted them. “Which of you is Ken?” she asked.

Ken spoke up. “I am.”

“Very well. Have a seat and Mr. Bates will see you in a few minutes. He is busy just now.”

The boys sat down and the secretary returned to her desk and typewriter. To the boys it seemed that she typed faster than the eye could follow. They looked around the room and noticed the various pictures and other office furniture. Every moment was to them an hour. Jack was sure that the chief would take one look at them and then throw them out of his office. Paul wondered how it happened Ken was acquainted with Chief Bates and made a mental note to ask his friend about it.

A buzzer sounded in the room and the boys jumped up. The secretary nodded and said, “You can go in now, Ken.”

Ken proceeded toward the door, followed by his friends. The secretary stopped them. “I thought only Ken was going in?”

“Oh, no,” he replied. “These are friends of mine and they are coming in with me.”

The young woman shrugged her shoulders. “Very well,” she said, “go right in.”

Ken knocked on the door and someone called loudly, “Come in.”

They entered. Behind a large desk toward the rear of the room sat Chief Bates. He was a man of about forty-five, well-set, husky and strong. He called out, “Hello Ken. I’m glad to see you.”

“Hello, Chief,” Ken answered, “these are friends of mine. I hope you don’t mind—”

“No, not at all. Pull up chairs, boys.” He leaned back in his swivel chair. When they were seated, he said, “Well what is it, Ken. But I warn you, I don’t have much time, so you better talk quickly.”

Ken said, “We are here to ask you a favor, Chief.”

“Anything within reason, Ken,” shot back the chief, “and I’ll do it.”

“The favor is,” continued Ken, “that you listen to something very, very important.”

“Very, very important,” added Jack.

Ken turned to Paul and said, “You tell him, Paul.”

Paul drew up his chair and leaned on the desk. He began, “You see, Chief, what we are going to tell you may sound very fantastic but I want you to believe that we are telling the truth and that we are not inventing anything.”

“Go on, go on,” urged the chief, nonchalantly leaning back in his chair.

“Well, to begin with,” continued Paul, “we have discovered a gang of counterfeiters—”

The chief almost jumped out of his seat. He flew forward to the desk and cried, “You have what? What are you talking about? Are you telling me stories or something?”

Paul felt his confidence shaking. He realized that the chief was a terror and would be hard to convince, but, he said to himself, he had to be convinced. “You see,” he said, “already you think we are telling you some fictionized story or trying to shock you. Please listen, it’s very important, and if you want to catch the gang, you have to act quickly.”

“Go on, go on,” said the chief, leaning on his desk.

“At 752 York Street, there is an empty house. In the cellar of that house you will find a printing press and all the things necessary to make counterfeit money.”

“How do you know all that?” demanded the chief.

“We were in there; we saw everything.”

“And how did you happen to be in there?”

The chief shot his questions like arrows and Paul began to waver; he was becoming confused. “That’s a long story, Chief,” he said, “and I am trying to come to the point directly.”

“Never mind, tell me the whole story.”

“But Chief Bates, that would take too long and it is important that you act quickly. The point of the story is that there are a gang of counterfeiters operating in the cellar of the empty house at 752 York Street. There is also a tunnel leading from that cellar to the cellar of the house in the rear of 752 York Street. That’s how they get in and out without being noticed.”

“But, my dear boy,” exclaimed the chief, irritated, “how do you know all that? Do you have any evidence? How am I to believe that what you are telling me is not a hoax of some sort?”

Jack jumped to his feet, impatient and exasperated. “Why don’t you go down there and find out?” he cried.

He shoved his hands deep into his pockets. Paul began to say something, but the next instant Jack jumped up and cried, “Here, here is your evidence. Look at this. When we were down there, there were a number of such bills on the table and I put this one into my pocket.”

The chief picked up the fake five dollar bill that Jack had thrown on the desk and examined it carefully. He rose and walked to the door and called to his secretary. “Tell Jim Spencer I want to see him right away.”

He returned to his swivel chair and said to the boys, “Now fellows, I am not doubting your story; on the contrary, I think that you may be telling the truth. But you understand that I have to question you closely.” He paused and the boys looked relieved; they even smiled happily. “In the meanwhile, I do wish you would tell me the whole story, from beginning to end, how you happened to discover this gang and all that.”

Paul looked at his friends and they nodded to him. Jack said, “Go on, Paul, tell him. But it will take a long time, though, Chief.”

The Chief of Police nodded. “That’s all right. I’m a good listener.”

Just then a tall, husky man entered the office and said, “You called for me, Chief?”

“Yes. Take a look at this.” And the chief gave Jim Spencer the counterfeit bill.

The detective quickly and expertly glanced at the bill and announced, “It’s fake, all right, Chief. Very clever work, though. Most likely the work of Moonshine Charlie.”

“You know what these boys are telling me, Jim?” asked the Chief. The detective shook his head and Bates continued, “They say that they have located the gang, have been down in their hangout and all they want now, I guess, is for us to step in and clean the gang up, isn’t that so, fellows?”

“That’s right,” cried Jack. “And you had better hurry, too.”

“Very interesting,” commented Jim Spencer. “How did they happen to discover it all?”

“That’s just what I’m trying to get out of them,” answered the chief, “but it’s like pulling teeth. Sit down and listen to the story.” To Paul, he said, “All right, go on with your story.”

“Well,” began the boy, “how it all began may sound a little fantastic. But you remember, Chief, that a week ago today, Ken’s little sister, Betty, disappeared for about an hour. Jack happened to be on Leonard Street at the moment and he saw her. He couldn’t understand what she was doing there, but after questioning her for some time, she told him that a tall man bought her candy and then took her for a walk and then he left her all alone at almost the end of the town.”

“And so you three became detectives and undertook to find the man, isn’t that so?” commented the chief, smiling.

“Yes, but wait a minute. This man had given Betty a blank, white card.”

“Here it is,” cried Jack, and threw the card on the desk.

The chief and the detective glanced at it casually. “Go on,” said the chief.

“Several days later,” continued Paul, “there was a fire on Water Street and—”

“Yes. I remember that,” said the chief. “And you very bravely ran into the burning house and saved an old couple and an infant. That was a very brave deed, my boy.”

“The important thing,” said Paul, “is that in the door of the room where the infant was, I found another card like that.” He searched in his pocket and produced the evidence. The chief and the detective examined the two cards. “And to make a long story short,” continued Paul, “there was a robbery at Professor Link’s and—”

“And you found another such card,” said the chief, interrupting.

“Yes.”

“But that is no evidence; it means nothing,” said the chief. “You can find cards like these everywhere you go, by the dozen.”

“Well, that may be so,” said Paul. “But to us it was evidence, and we figured that the same man committed all the three crimes. And we decided to track him down.”

“Why didn’t you come to us and tell us?” demanded Chief Bates.

Paul was perspiring. He was very tense and he felt that he was being hindered rather than helped. “Well, I don’t know,” he remarked, “I guess we didn’t think of it.”

“Didn’t think of it!” exclaimed the chief.

Jack saw how his friend was suffering and he jumped to his feet and cried, “What difference does all that make? The important thing is that we discovered the gang of counterfeiters and if you don’t act quickly they will escape.”

“I’m sorry for interrupting,” said the chief, somewhat embarrassed. “Go on with your story.”

“Well, we came across this man. To us he is known as Mr. Grey. And—”

“And how did you come across him and how did you know it was he?”

“There are a lot of little details that I’m leaving out to make the story short. At any rate, Jack followed him one night to the empty house at 752 York Street. We searched the house several times until we found the secret door to the cellar. And that’s the end of the story.”

“Well, there are some other things too, but we can tell you that later.”

The chief and the detective eyed each other. Detective Spencer asked, “Do you happen by any chance to know any of the members of this counterfeit gang?”

Paul nodded. “Yes,” he answered. “The fellow they call the boss and who seems to be the chief is a big, fat, dark featured individual. The—”

Chief Bates and the detective exclaimed simultaneously, “Moonshine Charlie!”

“Two other men call themselves Pete and Joe. Another member of the gang is a man who runs a grocery store at Main and Jones Streets.”

“Don’t forget Mr. Grey,” added Jack.

Paul nodded and said, “That’s right, and Mr. Grey. That’s all we know.”

“That’s plenty,” cried Jim Spencer. “Where is their hangout?”

“At 752 York Street; in the cellar.”

Just then they were interrupted by the entrance of the secretary, who said, “A gentleman to see you, Mr. Bates. He—”

The man was directly behind her and he said, “Never mind telling who I am and what my business is. I’ll do it myself.”

Everybody looked at the speaker. The boys jumped to their feet as if they had been touched by an electric spark. Simultaneously, they all cried, “Mr. Grey!”

CHAPTER XXII

Mr. Grey

Indeed, it was Mr. Grey. He stood there looking at them, smiling, self-confident. By now the chief and Jim Spencer had also jumped to their feet. Everyone was staring speechless at the gaunt man. Jack cried, “Who are you?”

The chief added, “Yes, tell us who you are and what you want.”

Mr. Grey walked over to the desk. Pausing for a moment to eye the secretary, she blushed and left the room. When the door was closed, he took a badge out of his pocket and showed it to the chief.

“Oh!” exclaimed the chief. “I’m glad to meet you.”

“Who is he, Chief Bates?” demanded Jack.

“A government man,” was the snappy retort.

“Then why did we find him among the gang?” demanded Jack. “Anyone can get himself a badge. Let him really identify himself.”

They all eyed Mr. Grey. Paul and Ken felt horrified by Jack’s demand but they felt that he was right, reasonable. Wasn’t it possible for him to pass off as a government man and yet be in reality a member of the gang? Mr. Grey said smilingly, “That boy will some day make a very good sleuth.”

“Well, you’re wrong,” retorted Jack. “I’m going to study to be a doctor.”

That set everybody to laughing. Addressing Chief Bates, Mr. Grey asked, “What have the boys been telling you?”

This time Paul was on his feet. He felt that Jack was correct in his demand that the man identify himself further. And the fact that the man was trying to evade it, aroused his own suspicions. “Why don’t you identify yourself?” he demanded. “How do we know who you are? For all we know, you may be a member of the gang, as we have thought right along, and only pretending that you are a government man.”

Mr. Grey raised his eyebrows but did not lose any of his equanimity. He smiled and seemed perfectly at ease. The chief remarked humorously, “It seems that this thing has passed completely out of my hands. So you two had better settle the issue.”

Mr. Grey said, “These boys are all right. No. As a matter of fact, they are better than that. They are shrewd, fine detectives. You ought to acquire them for your force, Chief.”

He took his coat off and ripped the seam open. Producing several papers, he handed them to Chief Bates, who looked them over carefully. Then Mr. Grey rolled up the sleeve of his right arm and revealed a red gash of about two inches long. The chief was convinced. “Good!” he exclaimed. Addressing the boys, he said, “He has identified himself beyond any doubt.”

The boys were satisfied. Jack said, “All right, now we know. But do you mind, Mr. er—”

“Mr. Grey.”

“Do you mind Mr. Grey, telling us the mystery of the white cards, your being with the grocery man who is a member of the gang and—”

“When the time comes, my boy,” he answered, “you will know everything. In the meanwhile, may I repeat my former question. What have the boys been telling you?”

Chief Bates cleared his throat. With a twinkle in his eye, he remarked, “They have been giving me a cock and bull story about a gang of counterfeiters.”

“Well, it just happens to be true,” announced Mr. Grey.

For a short while there was silence, as though they were all overcome by the government man’s statement. “Is it the Moonshine Charlie gang?” asked Jim Spencer.

“That’s right,” answered Mr. Grey. “And I’m here to ask you for ten men to round up the gang.”

“Right away?” asked Chief Bates.

“Right away.”

“Jim,” said the chief, addressing his detective, “round up ten men and get them ready. What else, Mr. Grey?”

“Nothing else,” he answered. “That is, for the present.” Addressing the boys, he said, “Well, fellows, how do you think we ought to go about it? But before we discuss that, may I know who you are?”

Paul rose. “My name is Paul—Paul Morrison. And I’m glad to know you, Mr. Grey.”

“Thank you. You fellows have done some very good work.”

“And this is Jack Stormways,” introduced Paul.

The two shook hands. Jack remarked, “I’m not going to say I’m glad to know you, but rather glad to meet you. After having followed you so much, I think I know you by now.”

Mr. Grey smiled. “Yes,” said Mr. Grey, “you have followed me around a great deal and rather expertly, too.”

“Thank you,” said Jack, grinning with pleasure.

“And this is Ken Armstrong.”

The two shook hands. “Now,” said Mr. Grey, “how are we going to finish the job and capture the gang? What’s your idea, fellows?”

Paul said, “I guess you ought to know that better than any of us. We will leave that to you.”

“Just one favor,” exclaimed Jack.

“What?”

“May we go along? I’d like to be in on it.”

Mr. Grey and the chief exchanged glances. The chief shook his head. “It’s going to be dangerous,” remarked Mr. Grey.

“Any more dangerous than what we have already done?” asked Jack.

“There may be shooting. And you might get hurt.”

“I guess we could keep out of the way. We might keep in the background.”

“Well,” conceded Mr. Grey, “if the chief has no objections, I’ll get you into action somehow.” The chief shrugged his shoulders. “After all,” he commented, “who am I to deny them their fun?”

“That’s swell,” cried Jack.

Just then, Detective Spencer returned to the office and announced that everything was ready. “I’ll tell you what you can do first, boys. Suppose Paul and Ken and two officers go down to the grocery store at Jones Street and arrest Harriman, the grocery man. If he isn’t in the store, he is upstairs, in the first room on your right.”