CHAPTER XXII
THE HOTEL FIRE
Joe was taken aback by the man’s strange proposition, and he plainly showed the surprise he felt.
“Oh, it’s a straight offer!” exclaimed Perkins. “I know it may sound a bit queer to you, but it’s done every day on the other side.”
“How did you come to be interested in my affairs?” asked Joe, wishing to gain all the information he could.
“I have friends among the lawyers across the water,” he answered with a grin. “They tip me off occasionally when there’s a bit to be made on the side. And I came over here on purpose to see you and make you an offer.”
“You came on purpose to see me?” cried Joe.
“Certainly. I was willing to spend money for a passage on the chance of making a good sum, and there’s quite a bit due you as I understand.”
“Yes, there is. Though how you found it out, I don’t know,” said the youth. “But why should I share my money with you?”
“Because I’ll help you get it.”
“Can’t I get it myself?”
“I don’t think so,” the fellow replied, with a grin. “You haven’t been getting it very fast, have you—not since the first installment?”
“Well, that’s true enough,” Joe said. “But I have taken steps to compel a settlement which has been rather slow.”
“You’ll never be able to get a settlement on your own account,” declared Mr. Perkins.
“Why not?”
“Because you don’t know the ropes, or all there is to be known.”
“And how do you happen to?”
“Because I’m on the inside, I tell you. Now look here, Mr. Strong!” and the man’s manner was earnest, though he kept his voice low, and looked over his shoulder occasionally as if he feared some one. “I know more than I’m telling, but I’m not going to give away all my secrets until you promise to whack up with me. If I help you collect your money, which you can’t get any other way, you surely ought to be willing to pay for my services.”
“I’m willing to pay for any legitimate help,” said Joe. “But what do you mean when you ask me to ‘whack up’ as you call it?”
“Go halves, of course.”
“Halves!” cried Joe.
“Hush! Not so loud, I beg of you,” whispered the man. “Half is what I usually get on cases like this.”
“Then this is your business—settling up disputed estates on a fifty per cent. commission?”
“Well, it’s my profession on the side. Sometimes I get more than half, and sometimes less. I’d have to get half in this case, to cover my expenses.”
Joe pondered for a moment. He did not like the idea of giving up any portion of his estate, except, perhaps, the amount the regular lawyers would charge. But then it might be better to take up this fellow’s offer in order to get a quick settlement, he reflected.
“Though I’ll not give him half, or even a quarter,” decided the boy.
“Well, what about it?” Perkins asked, a bit impatiently.
“I’ll consider the matter,” Joe replied, “and let you know later what I’ll do about it. Just now I——”
“Joe!” interrupted a voice behind him, “excuse me but a cablegram came for you and I brought it here, thinking it might be urgent.”
Joe looked up to see Benny Turton standing near him. Perkins also saw Joe’s friend, and an angry look came over the man’s face.
“I told you it would be all off if you brought any one with you!” the Englishman cried, ignoring the fact that Joe had not brought Benny, who had come in later, and unexpectedly. “Now the game’s up! I won’t have any dealings with you!”
And the man, without further ceremony, rushed from the place, leaving Benny and Joe staring after him in surprise.
“Well, what ailed him?” asked Benny.
“He seemed afraid of you,” his chum answered.
“I never saw him before in my life that I know of,” returned Benny.
“Then he didn’t want any third party to hear what he was saying. It’s a queer game, Ben. I’ll tell you about it in a minute, but first I must read the cablegram.”
“I thought maybe you might want it,” went on Benny, “and as Helen said you were here on some business connected with your English estate, I came on. Maybe the cablegram has to do with it.”
“It has,” Joe answered. “It’s from the lawyer who did such good work for me at first. He has agreed to take it up again, and he’s going to get right after this Mr. Bolling, who, I begin to think, is something of an incompetent, if not a scoundrel.”
“And who was this fellow, Joe?”
“Well, I didn’t get very far toward finding out, he ran off so suddenly. But he made me a queer offer. I should like to have a chance to talk more with him. I must ask the clerk about him.”
But the clerk knew very little of Mr. Perkins beyond the fact that he had come to the hotel that day, and did not seem to have any particular business. He had a cheap room, near the roof, and had said he would probably remain only a day or two.
Joe and Benny looked about the hotel for him, but Mr. Perkins appeared to have taken himself off, though why he should have fled so suddenly, just because Benny spoke to Joe, was beyond the comprehension of both young men.
Joe told his friend the whole story of Mr. Perkins, deciding it would be best to have a witness in case of proceedings later.
“Well, it certainly was a queer game,” said Benny. “Do you think he could be in with Bolling?”
“He didn’t mention his name. But he certainly knew some inside facts about my affairs.”
“Do you think you’ll have any dealings with him?”
“I might, Benny, if I can’t get my money any other way. But he will have to modify his terms. Fifty per cent. is too high.”
“I should say so! But before you do anything, why don’t you wait and see what this other lawyer can do? The one who sent the cablegram. He may help you.”
“I guess I will wait. Much obliged to you for bringing it to me. Well, I guess Mr. Perkins isn’t going to show up around here right away, so we may as well go back to the circus. I promised to take Helen for a ride.”
“I notice you don’t take Miss Tyndall any more,” said Benny, with a mischievous smile.
“No, I guess it’s safer not to,” laughed Joe. “I like her, but—well, you know how it is.”
“I guess so,” agreed Benny, with a broader smile on his face.
It had been the plan that the circus should stay only one day in this city, but on getting back to the grounds Benny and Joe found a change had been made in the arrangements. Word had been received that at the next stopping place a big fair was in progress which would probably interfere with the attendance at the Sampson Brothers’ Show. And as there was still a large population to draw from in Mortville, it was decided to remain over night, and to give two shows and the usual parade the next day.
“Well, that suits me,” said Joe. “I’ll have another chance to have a talk with Perkins.”
“How do you suppose he found you?” asked Helen, to whom Joe told what had happened.
“He said he came over from London on purpose. Of course the lawyers there have my address, and lately I sent them a complete schedule, stating where the circus would be every day. So Perkins must have known we’d be here on, or about, this date, and he came to wait for me.”
Joe’s acts, as well as those of the other circus performers, seemed to please the big audience in the crowded tent that night. There was generous applause, and Joe expected more when he did the funny countryman act of falling into the tank with Benny and the trained seal.
The boy had taken off his shimmering white suit—the one he wore when he rode the motor-cycle and drove the Bat, and was attired in a big, loose, clumsily-made suit, with large boots—the stage farmer’s outfit. Under it was the water-proof suit for use in the tank.
The boy, in his make-up, took his seat among the spectators, of whom he was supposed to be one. Lizzie, the trained seal, was loosed from her crate to flap her way to the steps of the platform on which the tank set. The lithe animal started on her journey, and Joe, according to the programme, started after her, pretending to think she had got loose by accident. At the same time, a little boy sitting near Joe also got up, and before his father could stop him, had run close to the seal.
“I want it! I want it!” the child cried. “I want it to play with!”
For a moment there was more confusion than Joe had bargained for. He knew he must get the child, for sometimes Lizzie snapped at strangers who touched her, and she had teeth of razor-like sharpness. She could bite off the hand of the child as easily as she could bite through a large fish.
“Come back! Come back!” cried Joe. But the child was fleet of foot, and our hero had fairly to leap forward. Even then he was only just in time to snatch the youngster away as he laid a little hand on Lizzie’s smooth back.
The seal, feeling a strange touch on her, turned with a growl and showed her teeth, snapping at the hand of the boy. But Joe had him out of danger, though the little fellow did not realize from what he had escaped.
“Don’t play with circus animals, bubby!” cautioned Joe as he handed the little one to the startled father. Then Joe had to go on with his own part in the act, ending up, when he could not catch Lizzie before she flopped into the tank, by falling in himself.
Joe and Benny did the double turn under water, and that ended Joe’s work for the night. It had been a full day for him, counting in his ride on the circus wagon.
As usual, in the parade the next day Joe rode in the flying machine on the back of Rajah, the big elephant. The procession was wending its way down one of the city streets, but Joe noticed that the usual crowds were not present.
“What’s going on? Is there a counter attraction?” he heard one of the circus horsemen ask a mounted policeman—one of several escorting the circus parade.
“Big fire a few blocks down,” was the answer. “The Globe Hotel is burning! You can see the smoke of it!”
Joe looked in the direction indicated, and saw a black pall mounting over the trees.