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Dave Dashaway, the Young Aviator

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<h2 id='chapXXIII' class='c001'>CHAPTER XXIII</h2> <div class='nf-center-c0'> <div class='nf-center c004'> <div>A GREAT SURPRISE</div> </div></div> Dave looked the boy he had followed and run to cover squarely in the eye. There could be no mistake as to his identity. The scar on his face showed plainly. For all of his gay clothes and jaunty appearance, the fellow had the same repellant features that Dave had noticed at the lodging house the night he was robbed. For a minute the fellow looked surprised. Then his memory quickened to recognition. He turned pale, his lips trembled, and he blurted out unsteadily: “W—what do you want?” “I want you,” said Dave simply and sternly. Quick as a flash the boy thief realized his situation, it seemed. He made a move for which Dave was unprepared. Making a light spring, one hand extended, he swept Dave clear of the threshold of the room, and sent him crashing back against the other wall of the corridor. Before Dave could recover himself the door was violently slammed shut. Dave heard the key turn in the lock. Then there were hurried movements about the room. Dave was mad at being outwitted. He was determined, too. He threw himself against the door, but could not budge it. “Open this door!” he shouted, pounding upon the panels. “It will be the better for you.” No attention was paid to this. Dave continued to hammer on the door. “You’re a thief!” he cried. “I’ll rouse the whole hotel and leave you publicly disgraced if you don’t come out. I want back the property you stole from me, and I’m bound to have it.” Dave made a spring. His foot landed on the outside door knob. He caught at the tilted transom to steady himself. Just then a figure came hurrying down the corridor. Dave’s foot was seized and he was dragged to the floor. “Here, what you up to, with all this noise?” demanded his captor, a hall man of the hotel, by his uniform. “There’s a thief in that room,” cried Dave breathlessly. “A thief?” “Yes.” “How do you know?” “He robbed me. He just slammed the door in my face. Have you a key to that room?” “Why, yes, but——” “Unlock the door, then. I’ll face him down for you. You can take both of us to the hotel clerk, and I’ll speak the truth.” The hall man hesitated a trifle, but Dave’s earnest urging induced him to produce a bunch of keys. Dave rushed into the room. He looked all around it. “Why,” he cried, “it’s empty! The fellow is gone!” Dave peered into a closet, under a bed, and then ran to the window. There the hall man was looking at a coat and hat lying on the platform of the fire escape, just outside of the casement. “This is a queer go,” he said, slowly and dubiously, “but there seems to be something to your story.” “I should think there was, a whole lot,” declared Dave. “Don’t you see?” “What?” “The fellow has escaped. He knew I was bound to get into this room. Those things fell out of his satchel as he got through the window.” “Yes, his satchel is gone, that’s so,” observed the hall man. “Say, you had better report this to the clerk.” Dave was very much disturbed and disappointed. There could be no doubt that the boy thief had escaped by the window route. It would probably be in vain to try to follow him now. Dave dashed out into the corridor and ran down the stairs, not waiting for the elevator. The clerk was talking to a guest, polite and imperturbable. He simply inclined his head as Dave burst forth: “The boy in 47.” “Ah, yes!” answered the hotel clerk. “Who is he?” The clerk turned the big register around, flipped back a page or two, and set his finger on a name. Dave read it, and nearly fell down where he stood. He had never been so startled and dumbfounded in his life. The name on the register, written in a big, sprawling hand was—— “Dave Dashaway!” Dave grasped the marble counter slab for support with both hands. He gasped and started. “My name!” he exclaimed. “Why, what does this mean?” “What’s the trouble?” inquired the guest, who had been conversing with the clerk. He could not help but notice Dave’s perturbation. “Why,” cried Dave, “I followed a fellow here, to room 47. He is a thief. He robbed me of valuable property two weeks ago. He just slammed the door of his room in my face.” “A thief?” spoke the clerk, arching his eyebrows. “Are you pretty sure?” “I should think so,” retorted Dave, “seeing that, rather than meet me, he has made off by the fire escape, baggage and all.” The hotel clerk blinked in his usual calm way, but touched a bell to summon the hall man from the fourth floor. “And he stole my name,” cried Dave. “Why?” “Is that your name?” inquired the clerk, pointing to the register. “It is,” assented Dave. “Strange. Let me see, forty-seven—Dashaway,” and the clerk went to a case covered with little cards and selected one. “Oh, yes, has been here twice in a week. Prompt pay. Old gentlemen with him here once, grandfather, I believe. Very respectable old man.” “See here,” said Dave realizing that he was wasting time, “I don’t want to make you any trouble, but I must report this to the police.” “The only thing to do, I should say,” replied the clerk. “Where is the nearest police station?” “Two squares down, one square south.” “Thank you,” said Dave, and darted away. He hurried out of the hotel and up to the automobile he had recently left. “Wait here,” he directed Hiram. “Is it the boy you supposed?” asked Hiram. “Yes. I can’t explain now. I’ll be back in five minutes.” Dave was not afraid to face the police on this occasion. He could now use the name of Mr. King. He planned to have the police get promptly on the trail of the boy thief. Dave located the police station and ran up its steps. At a desk in a large room sat the office clerk, writing. “I want to report a case of robbery,” said Dave. “All right, see the lieutenant,” responded the clerk. “Where is he?” “That’s his room yonder,” was the reply, and the man pointed to a small room leading off from the main apartment. “He’s off with a squad, but he’ll be back soon.” Dave moved over to the open doorway indicated. He was greatly excited over all the incidents of the past two hours, and hardly had the patience to wait for the lieutenant. He decided to go into the room, however, and wait for the official’s return. The minute he stepped across the threshold, however, he was aware that the room held two occupants. Then Dave Dashaway discovered something else, that was the surprise of his life. First one, and then the other of the two occupants of the room arose in a hurry. “Why, what luck—the very boy!” sounded one voice. “Dave Dashaway!” cried the other. And the boy aviator came to a standstill with a shock, as he recognized his old guardian, Silas Warner, and the sheriff from Brookville. <div class='pbb'></div> <hr class='pb c000' /> <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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