CHAPTER XIV

AT THE FAIRGROUNDS

Joe had been afraid this question would be asked, and he was, therefore, prepared for it.

“I didn’t bring the certificate with me,” he said. “My father said it wouldn’t be necessary--that you had the record of the stock on the books.”

“Hum! Well, what do you want to know?”

“My father would like to know something of the way business is running, and all that,--and he also wants to know if that stock is free and clear.”

“You can’t expect me to open our books to you, a stranger,” cried Thomas Mason. “Our books are open to our stockholders, but not to the general public.”

“Here is a letter from Mr. Akers to my father about the stock,” went on Joe, producing the missive. He hardly knew how to proceed.

The general manager of the novelty company perused the communication closely.

“When did Mr. Akers give this?” he demanded, noting that the letter was not dated.

“Yesterday.”

“Yesterday. Where is he?”

“That I cannot tell you, Mr. Mason.”

“Don’t you know?” And the portly man looked at the youth and at Fred sharply.

“Yes, I know, but--er--I cannot tell you. If you know Mr. Akers you know he is a strange man. At present he wishes to keep his whereabouts a secret.”

“For what purpose?”

“That is his business.”

“Is it? Well, the running of this company is my business. I have nothing to tell you.”

“Won’t you tell me if that stock is free and clear? My father doesn’t want to buy stock that isn’t fully paid for.”

“If Mr. Akers has stock in this concern the certificate will show if it is paid for or not.”

“Well, he has the stock, hasn’t he?”

“I don’t know--I’d have to look up the records, and I am not going to do that just now. If he has the stock his certificate will show it, and also show if it is paid for in full, and also whether it has been transferred or not. We have in all two hundred thousand dollars’ worth of stock out and I do not keep a personal list of our stockholders--that is on our records. As for this business, we are doing nicely and our stock is worth par, if not more.”

“How long has Mr. Akers held this stock?” asked Fred, after a short pause.

“I haven’t said that he owns any stock,” snapped back Thomas Mason. “As a matter of fact, I do not remember seeing his name in the list of stockholders. But of course, if he has a certificate, he must own the stock, and the records will show it. Tell your father to bring the certificate and I will look the matter up and give him all the information I can. Now you boys will have to excuse me, for I have many matters of importance to attend to.” And the general manager of the novelty company drew himself up as if to close the interview.

“Then you won’t look up this record for us?” asked Joe, as he backed to the door.

“No--not until you bring me that certificate. Then I’ll be assured that you and Mr. Akers really mean business and I’ll do what I can for you.” And thus speaking Thomas Mason bowed them out of his private office and turned his back on them.

Joe and Fred felt that they had been beaten--that they had failed to trap Mr. Mason as they had hoped to do. They wanted to remain--to question him some more,--but he gave them no opportunity. Much crestfallen, they left the building and walked slowly down the street.

“What do you make of it, Joe?” asked Fred, as they came to a halt on the corner.

“He is bluffing us, Fred. He knows all about that stock.”

“Just my idea. But he wouldn’t admit that it was on the books. That looks bad.”

“Yes, but on the other hand, he didn’t say that Mr. Akers didn’t own the stock. Now, if he has the certificate, and wants to defraud Mr. Akers, why didn’t he come right out, pretend to look up the records, and then say that Mr. Akers didn’t have the stock?”

“Maybe he was afraid that we had seen the certificate before it was stolen and that your father and Mr. Akers would demand to know how the stock had been transferred, or something like that. I think his plan may be to lie low and say nothing until he is sure of his ground. In the end he may forge Mr. Akers’s name to some transfer of the stock, using the stolen certificate.”

“Yes, or else--Hello, there he is, looking after us!”

Both boys wheeled about, to behold Thomas Mason on the steps of the factory office, gazing earnestly after them. Then they walked around the corner.

“He’s disturbed, that’s sure,” remarked the stout youth. “I wonder if----”

“There he goes--across the street!” cried Joe, who had turned back to glance around the corner. “Do you know what I think? He is going over to see that Lamar Chase. His office is opposite, if you will remember.”

Both boys watched the portly figure of the novelty company manager as he crossed the somewhat dirty roadway. They saw him pause on a set of steps, look up and down the street, and then disappear through an open doorway.

“Do you know what I’ve a mind to do?” said Joe.

“Follow him?”

“Yes. Maybe we’ll learn something, Fred. Come on, it’s early yet.”

“We don’t want to get into trouble, Joe.”

“Oh, we can run for it, if we have to. Come on.”

Both boys turned back and walked swiftly towards the building into which Thomas Mason had gone. They found an open hallway, leading to a lower loft. A flight of steps and a freight elevator led to another loft above, that occupied by the plow concern represented by Lamar Chase.

“Hey, Jackson!” they heard a voice call, in the upper hallway.

“Is that you, Mr. Mason?” came back from the freight elevator.

“Yes. Is Mr. Chase in?”

“No, sir, he has gone over to the fairgrounds, to look after the exhibit.”

“When will he be back?”

“Not to-day, sir. The man that was to be at the fairgrounds had to go to New York, so Mr. Chase is going to take his place and see if he can’t book some orders.”

“I see. Well, maybe I’ll go over to the fairgrounds myself,” responded Thomas Mason, and then the boys heard him turn on a landing of the stairs and start to come down.

“Come on!” whispered Joe, and ran noiselessly out of the building, followed by his chum. Both paused behind a pile of packing cases on the sidewalk and saw Mr. Mason come out and re-cross the street to his own offices. Then they took to a side alleyway, so that they might not be seen.

“Did you hear what he said!” cried the stout youth, excitedly.

“I did, Fred. Mr. Chase is at the fairgrounds, and Mr. Mason may call to see him.”

“He seems rather anxious, don’t you think?”

“Oh, I don’t know.”

“But to go to the fair to see Chase!”

“Oh, he may have intended to go anyway--to see the exhibits and the hydro-aeroplane stunts.”

“No, I think he wants to see this Lamar Chase--maybe about that stock!”

“Well, if we go we can hunt up Mr. Chase ourselves,” returned Joe.

“Let us watch for Mason and try to find out what he has to say to this man Chase.”

“It might not do any harm to do that.”

The boys walked out of the alleyway on to one of the main streets of Springfield, and then Fred led the way to where his aunt lived. She was somewhat surprised to see him, but speedily made both him and his chum feel at home.

“I thought some of you boys would come to see the fair,” said Mrs. Powelson. “They are going to have a flying machine there. You’ll want to see that.”

“Sure, especially as we have a flying machine of our own, Aunt Emma,” responded Fred.

“A flying machine! You!” gasped the aunt.

“Yes;” and the stout youth gave a few of the particulars.

“Well, I never, Fred Rush! What in the world is the world coming to! Of course you are not going to fly in it.”

“Sure we are, Aunt Emma. Some day I’ll take you up!” And Fred winked at Joe.

“Indeed, you’ll never get me off the ground in one of those things!” declared Mrs. Powelson, firmly. “Why, I think it is flying in the face of Providence! If you fall you’ll be killed!”

“I don’t intend to fall.”

“That is what they all say--but they do fall, just the same.” And shaking her head dubiously, Fred’s aunt went off to get the dinner ready. She lived alone, being a widow.

It was a simple but well-served meal, of chicken potpie with dumplings, and berry pie, and it is perhaps needless for me to say that the lads ate as only hungry and growing boys can stow away food. The lady was glad to see them enjoy the repast, and insisted upon giving each an extra helping of chicken and a second piece of the pie.

“Certainly very nice,” murmured Joe, on arising from the table.

“I am glad you enjoyed it,” said Mrs. Powelson. “Come again--I like company.”

“Wouldn’t you like to go to the fair with us, Aunt Emma?” asked Fred, politely.

“No, Fred, you two boys run along alone. I am going to-morrow, with some lady friends.”

A quarter of an hour later saw the two chums on a trolley car, bound for the fairgrounds, which were some distance out of the city. The car was crowded and they had to stand on the running-board, along with many other boys and some men. Many were talking about the fair and about the aviator who was to be there, and all hoped to see some daring flights into space.

When the grounds were reached, the lads found a larger crowd than ever, and they had to fairly shove their way up to one of the ticket booths, to get the cards of admission. But once inside, they found ample room, and they roamed around, past several exhibition buildings and tents, and numerous refreshment stands.

“There is the lake!” cried Joe, pointing it out. “But I don’t see anything like a flying machine.”

“It’s behind the boathouse,” said a man standing near. “They are fixing something on it. They ain’t going to use it until half-past three o’clock, so the man told me.”

“Then we’ve got over an hour to wait,” said Fred. “Come on, Joe, let us look for that plow exhibit and Mr. Chase.”

Joe was willing, and together the youths strolled along, to where some big banners announced the wares of the various farming implement companies.

“Here is the Double Weld Plow!” cried Joe, presently. “And there is a man talking business to several farmers. Maybe that is Mr. Chase.”

“We’ll soon find out,” answered Fred, and together they drew closer, behind some farmers. They soon learned that the man selling plows was Lamar Chase. He got one order for a plow, and then the crowd dispersed, but soon another commenced to collect. Then of a sudden Joe caught Fred by the arm.

“Get back here, behind this tent!” he whispered. “Here comes Mr. Mason!”