CHAPTER XXIV
THE CABLEGRAM
Joe Strong hardly stopped to consider what he was doing. He had but one thought in mind, and that was to get in communication with Mr. Craige, and that as soon as possible.
"For if he goes to England," mused Joe, "there is no telling when he may come back, and I'll have no end of bother writing back and forth about mother's property—or mine," he added, and tears came into his eyes as he thought of her. "Then, too, if I can see him before he takes the New York express, I may be able to induce him to act for me, or get a lawyer, or whatever they call the law-folk in England. Yes, I've just got to get him."
So Joe started on his wild ride, leaving a rather surprised man watching him.
"That lad will certainly make things hum!" said the man who had told Joe how to reach Mr. Craige.
And if Joe himself was not humming, his motor-cycle was. The machine had served him many a good turn in spite of the fact that now and then it went back on him, getting punctures or breaking its chain.
"If it hadn't been for this I'd never have met Mr. Craige and his friend," reflected Joe, as he rode along, "and I never would have been able to work up the circus act which is bringing me in such a good salary. And if I didn't have it now I'd never be able to take after the elusive Mr. Craige, as I'm doing."
Joe was on the only road that led to the town of Borden, and he knew that with speed enough he would overtake the automobile in which the Englishman was traveling. Joe had obtained a description of the car from the man in Burton who had told him about Mr. Craige.
"And there are not so many autos out in this part of the country to-day that I'll mistake it," reasoned the youth.
However, that only goes to show how one can be mistaken.
As Joe topped a hill in the road he saw descending the slope a big car which answered the description of the one he had in mind.
"There he is!" Joe cried, and he turned on more power, so that he rushed down the hill at really dangerous speed. But he did not want to miss his man, and the time for the arrival of the train was dangerously close.
"Hi there! Stop! Wait a minute!" cried Joe, but of course his voice was drowned in the noise of his own machine and in that made by the automobile ahead of him, which was traveling away at a good rate of speed.
"I've just got to get ahead of them!" thought Joe.
He put on all the power he dared used, and, aided by the down grade, he was quickly overtaking the car. Just ahead, and at the point where Joe thought he could pass and get in front to bring the automobile to a stop, was a narrow bridge.
"It's going to be a tight squeeze to get through," thought Joe, "and I hope it isn't as rickety as the other bridge in which Mr. Craige and I figured."
The bridge was safe enough as regarded its weight-sustaining qualities, but it was so narrow, and the automobile was so wide, that Joe had barely room to pass. As it was he had to take one hand from the steering bar to avoid having his knuckles scraped against the guard rail.
But Joe's practice in riding the wire stood him in good stead now, and he was able to ride straight through the narrow passage.
Out in front of the automobile he shot, to the no small surprise of the chauffeur, who had no idea any one was behind him.
Putting on all his power, Joe got ahead and then, coming to a quick stop, he dismounted and held up a hand.
With a screeching of the brake bands the car halted, and an elderly gentleman, putting his head out of the window, cried:
"What do you mean by stopping me? I am not exceeding the speed limit. I'm sure, for I was watching the meter myself."
Joe was taken by surprise. The man was not Mr. Craige at all!
"I beg your pardon," was all Joe could say. "I have made a mistake. I thought a friend of mine was in the car."
"Humph!" grunted the occupant, while the colored chauffeur grinned, showing an expanse of white teeth.
"Have you seen another auto like yours along this road?" asked Joe. "It's very important that I should find it."
The elderly gentleman seemed mollified by Joe's evident sincerity, and said he had seen no other car.
"Then he must still be ahead of me," said Joe. "I'll ride on. Thank you."
His motor was still running and he quickly threw in the clutch, and speeded off ahead of the automobile, which came on more slowly.
"I must reach him soon now," mused our hero, "or he'll get the train, and that means a long delay for me. I've got to get him."
He rode on, and about a mile from Borden, as he noted by a cross-road sign-post, he saw ahead of him an automobile very similar to the one he had so uselessly pursued.
"If he isn't in that I'll give up!" thought Joe. "At least for the time being."
This car was moving much faster than the other had been, and Joe was hard put to overtake it. He hung near the rear wheels for some time, vainly endeavoring to get up speed enough to pass, but the chauffeur of the automobile was evidently bent on making time himself, and he needed to, for, as he went on, there sounded through the clear air the note of a locomotive whistle.
This car was moving much faster than the other had been.
"There's the train!" cried Joe. "It's going to be touch and go."
He tried to shout, thinking if the automobile would stop long enough he could get in it, and ride along with Mr. Craige, explaining matters and asking his advice as they rode to the depot.
"Then I could walk back and get my motor-cycle," reflected Joe.
But his shouts were not heard, and it was not until he had followed the machine to the very depot platform that he had actually overtaken it.
A man whom Joe recognized at once as Mr. Craige got out and ran into the station.
"Hey! Wait a minute!" begged Joe.
"No time to stop now. No time to stop now!" came floating back the answer. "I've got to get my ticket for the express. She's coming now."
This was true enough, for the train was even then slowing up to make the stop.
Joe was determined not to give up. He followed Mr. Craige into the station and waited while the ticket was purchased. Mr. Craige had his back to Joe, and when he turned around our hero exclaimed:
"Don't you know me, Mr. Craige? I'm Joe Strong, who helped you and Mr. Strailey the time of your auto accident last spring."
No sign of recognition showed on the Englishman's face.
"I have very little time to converse with you," he said, "but though I do know, or, rather, I have heard of a Joe Strong, you do not in the least resemble him. Pardon me, but I must take the train."
Joe was taken aback, and then a hasty glance in a mirror showed him what was wrong. It was the goggles he wore to protect his eyes from dust. In a trice he snatched them off and cried:
"Do you know me now?"
"By Jove! It is the youth who did us such a good turn—Joe Strong!" cried Mr. Craige. "Pardon me. I am so sorry I did not recognize you."
"That's all right," said Joe. "I've been following you up all day. What about my inheritance? Is there anything due me?"
"It is most unfortunate that I have to leave at once for England, or I could talk to you about it," said Mr. Craige. "I will go into the matter when I return. I feel sure there is something due you."
"We can talk now," said Joe. "If you go to England I was in hope that you might act for me—of course for a compensation."
"But we can't talk now, my dear chap. The train is coming. Here it is now!"
At that moment the express drew into the station.
"Yes, we can talk!" exclaimed Joe. "I'll ride to the next station with you, and we can go over the matter that way. I'll come back here by train, pick up my machine, and ride on back to the circus!"
"By Jove! You Americans certainly do things!" cried Mr. Craige. "Well, come along. I'm in a tremendous hurry. Things are rather tangled up in our mining syndicate, and I have to go to London to straighten them out. It's lucky you caught me, for, as you say, if there is anything due you I might be able to start things moving for you on the other side. Come on; we've no time to lose."
Joe quickly bought a ticket for the next station at which the express stopped and followed Mr. Craige into the car. He left his motor-cycle in charge of the Borden baggageman.
"And now to business," said Mr. Craige. "We haven't any too much time as it is. This is a fast train, and it won't be long before we're at Mill Junction, where you'll have to get off or be carried a hundred miles east, and then you'll not be able to get back in time for your next performance."
Joe realized this, and at once plunged into the subject. He told of the meeting with Mr. Strailey and all that followed, and ended by producing certain documents, proving his birth and his right to the name Joe Strong.
On his part Mr. Craige spoke of his early acquaintance with Janet Willoughby, Joe's mother, and with her people in Surrey.
"And that there is something due you, I'm sure," said Mr. Craige, "for the estate was a large one. I was interested in you and that phase of the matter the day of our motor accident, when I heard your name. And I intended to follow up the matter, but you know what happened."
He then went into further details, confirming what Mr. Strailey had hinted at.
"And now what's to be done?" asked Joe.
"This, I think," replied his companion. "You let me take these papers proving your identity, and I will submit them to one of our syndicate solicitors. He'll take up the case for you as reasonably as any one, and if he finds out there is money coming to you he'll get it if any one can. I never saw such a chap for collecting money—never, by Jove!"
"And if there is some due me?" asked Joe.
"Then I'll have him send it to you, or bring it myself if I come back in a reasonable time."
"Will it be necessary for me to go to England?" asked Joe.
"I think not, with the proofs I have here. Still I can not say for certain."
This was about all that could be done, and when the express stopped at Mill Junction Joe bade Mr. Craige good-bye and got off.
"Wish me good-luck on your mission!" cried the Englishman, and Joe did most heartily.
Joe Strong had to wait some little time for a train back to Borden, and when he reached there, and found his motor-cycle safe, he decided it would be best to remain over night, rather than travel a strange road after dark.
But early the next morning he was on his way back to where the circus was playing.
"What kept you?" asked Helen. "I was quite worried about you."
"I was after my inheritance."
"Did you get it?"
"Well, I've got things started," said the youth, as he told of his rather momentous day's experiences.
"Oh, I hope he gets it for you! I hope he does!" Helen murmured, and Joe certainly shared in her hope.
Three weeks passed with no word from Mr. Craige and Joe was getting a bit anxious. The show, meanwhile, moved on from city to city, and in each place they visited Joe left careful instructions with the postmaster to have his mail forwarded. He had also given Mr. Craige a full route of the circus, so that, barring accidents, the Englishman would know where Joe was each day.
And then one day, when Joe had finished his wire act, he found a telegraph messenger boy waiting for him in the dressing tent.
"A cablegram for you," he informed Joe.
"Cablegram?" Joe's heart was beating fast.
"Yep."
With trembling fingers Joe tore open the envelope. The message read:
"Inheritance safe. Am coming back with part of it. Rest will follow. Craige."