Bound to Succeed; or, Mail Order Frank's Chances

by Robert Sidney Bowen

  CHAPTER XXVI

  MYSTERIOUS STET

  Main Street Block was the oldest business building in Pleasantville. Itwas here, according to Stet’s brief report, that Dale Wacker had goneinto the mail order business.

  Frank attended to some necessary writing at the office. Then he went toMain Street Block. Downstairs the street floor of the building wasoccupied by stores that did a good trade. The upper floors, however,were only partly occupied.

  Frank went up the dusty stairs to the second story. Here were aphotographer, a surveyor, and a tailor.

  Frank ascended the last flight of stairs. When he arrived at their tophe found a small hallway ending at a door.

  “Why,” he said, “this floor is not divided off into offices. Looks as ifit had been used for a lodge room. Yes, there is a peep-hole in thatdoor. I’ll knock, anyhow.”

  Frank did knock. He heard some fumbling at a dirt-grimed window at oneside of the hall. It moved slightly in as if set on hinges.

  Then there was dead silence. Again he hammered at the door. A slightsnap suddenly sounded. This was caused by the cover to the littlecircular hole in being shot back.

  “What do you want?” sharply demanded the voice of some one behind thehole, invisible for the darkness of the closed in room or entry beyond.

  “Is this the United States Mail Order House?” asked Frank.

  “The what?”

  Frank repeated the magnificent-sounding name.

  “Never heard of it.”

  “Well, then, is there a Mr. Wacker here?” persisted Frank.

  “No. Nobody but a sick old man. Go away.”

  “Hold on,” said Frank, but the wicket went shut with a sudden snap.

  “Of course this is the place,” thought Frank. “That’s something to know.Hello--”

  Five steps down the stairs Frank started. Something had struck hisshoulder. As he turned he noticed the window being pulled to. Also athis feet the object that had struck him.

  It was a little piece of tin--around it was tied a fragment of coarsemanilla paper. Frank picked it up. He slipped it into his pocket anddescended to the street. Turning the corner he untied the paper. It wasscrawled over, and read:

  “Keep cool. Be shady. Things working. Important. Midnight.”

  Frank had to smile at all this serio-tragic phraseology.

  “Stet wrote that,” he said. “Still the dark and mysterious detective!Probably enjoying it. He usually means something though, for all hisextravagant ways of mystery. That means he has news to tell me. Butwhere does he expect to see me at midnight? And why midnight?

  “Ah! Brr-rr-r! Hist! Good old Stet! He’ll probably do somethingsensational soon, but meantime I must pursue my investigations.”

  These did not result in much. Frank went to the post-office. Thepostmaster told him that twice a day either Dale Wacker or an old manwho was evidently associated with him brought a great many letters tomail. In return they received as many as forty letters a day. Theypresented a good many money orders, always for the same amount--elevendollars.

  The afternoon was nearly gone by this time. Frank called at the townhall but found that the marshal had gone home to sleep until midnight.

  “I will see him bright and early in the morning,” decided Frank. “Hecan’t make any mistake by assuming that old lodge room to be theheadquarters of the United States Mail Order House Swindle. Those fellowsare taking some risks. They will be in for a sudden disappearance unlessthe marshal nabs them soon.”

  “Are you going to take a day or two looking up Markham?” his motherasked at the tea table.

  “I can’t to-morrow, mother,” continued Frank--“other important business.I hope to get the day following, though.”

  Frank put in an hour on a small set of books he kept at home coveringthe mail order business. Then he went to bed.

  Something disturbed him about two hours later, for, almost wide awake,he counted the strokes of the town bell. It was just twelve o’clock.

  “Midnight, eh?” mused Frank. “That was Stet’s dark and deadly hour. Isay--if it isn’t Stet on hand!”

  Some pebbles struck the upper closed sash of the room in which Frankslept. Beyond the wire screen covering the lower half of the windowFrank made out a form moving to and fro.

  “Hist!” sounded out.

  “Yes, Stet,” said Frank, slipping out of bed, “I hear you. Well?”

  “It’s me,” said Stet. “Lift up the screen, will you?”

  “Oh, want to come in!”

  “I don’t, but I do want to give you something.”

  “Why, what is this?” asked Frank, as lifting the screen Stet shoved around package into his hand.

  “It’s your missing mailing lists.”

  “And where did you get them?”

  “Dale Wacker has been using them ever since he started in business,”explained Stet. “Where he got them is easy to guess.”

  “From Markham, of course.”

  “That’s it. This was my first chance to get away from them. Say, there’sWacker and his partner. They’re up to the worst swindle you ever heardof. They’ve taken in a big lot of money. They’re booked to leaveto-morrow, so I sneaked the lists out of the outfit. I’m not going backto them.”

  “Why, then--”

  “I’m going down to Hazelhurst,” proceeded Stet.

  Frank was surprised that Stet should mention the very place he had mostin his mind.

  “To Hazelhurst?” he repeated curiously.

  “Yes. From something I heard Wacker say to his partner, I am pretty surethat Wacker has got Markham hidden away or a prisoner somewhere aroundHazelhurst.”

  “Why, Stet,” said Frank, “I have thought that, too. I was going theremyself to-morrow, only some important business hinders me.”

  “Tell you what I’ll do,” suggested Stet; “let me see what I can findat Hazelhurst. There’s going to be a big blow-up with Wacker & Co.to-morrow. As I have sort of been in with them, maybe it would bebest for me to keep out of the way so I won’t get hit with any of thepieces.”

  “What do you mean by a blow up, Stet?” inquired Frank.

  “’Splosion.”

  “Indeed?”

  “Sure thing! Say about ten o’clock to-morrow morning you hang aroundMain Street Block, and see what a telegram I sent to-day is going tofetch the United States Mail Order House.”