HIGGINS TELLS WHAT HE KNOWS.

Higgins seemed to be the only member of the club about the place. The inner doors were open, and the racket which Carl stirred up by his attack did not draw any one through them.

Higgins was very much surprised. Carl's attack was so suddenly made that he was thrown from his feet.

"Vas it you dot wrode dot ledder," fumed Carl, "und saidt in it dot I vas a 'Wienerwurst?' Ach, blitzen, I make you t'ink I peen a volgano mit an erubtion. I bed someding for nodding you don't fool some more Dutchmans!"

Higgins, unable to protect himself from the frantic Dutchman, began begging for mercy.

"That will do, Carl," said Matt. "Leave him alone. We seem to have him all to ourselves and it's a good chance for a little heart-to-heart talk."

Matt sat down on a chair beside the open alley door and Carl appropriated an empty beer keg. It was evident that the members of the Drivers' Club were of a convivial nature. Higgins, nursing the back of his head and a bruise on the side of his face, leaned against the wall and peered sullenly at Matt and furiously at Carl.

"Where's the rest of the gang, Higgins?" asked Matt.

"What's it to you?" flared Higgins.

"That's your mood, is it?" said Matt. "Carl, go and get a policeman. We can put this fellow in jail for what he did last night."

Carl got up and started for the door.

"On der chump!" said he, knowing well enough that Matt was bluffing in the hope of drawing Higgins out and making him more communicative.

"Wait a minute!" called Higgins. "What do you want to mix the police in this thing for? You'll only be making trouble for yourselves, and you can't bother me very much."

"I know what we can do," answered Matt sternly. "Go on, Carl."

"Here, hold up!" begged Higgins, showing signs of alarm. "Can't we straighten this out somehow?"

"We might, Higgins, if you want to talk."

"What is it you want to know?"

"When will the rest of your gang be here?"

"Not before three weeks or a month."

"Where are they?"

"Gone to Kansas to get ready for the race."

"Ach, vat a luck!" groaned Carl.

"When did they leave?" went on Matt.

"Nine o'clock this morning."

"Who went?"

"Patsy Grier, Tobe Martin, Balt Finn, Ralph Sercomb, Harry Packard and Joe Mings."

"They all belong to the club, eh?"

"Yes."

"Who's the club's boss?"

"Grier."

"Are all those you named going to take part in the race for the Borden cup?"

"Yes."

"Do they all drive for Stark-Frisbie?"

"I should say not! Sercomb, Mings, and Packard are the only Stark-Frisbie men."

"Who do the others drive for?"

"Bly-Lambert."

"Where's Slocum?"

"He went with the rest."

"Is he working for Bly-Lambert, too?"

"No, he's working for Slocum."

"Who was it got Slocum to call on me last night?"

"I don't know anything about that," answered Higgins shiftily. "I was the last member to join the Drivers and they don't put me wise to very much that's going on."

"It's plain," said Matt, "that you don't intend to talk. You'd better go on, Carl," he added to his Dutch chum, "and get the officer."

"Wait!" clamored Higgins. "I'll make a clean breast of everything. Sercomb put up the deal with Slocum. I don't know what the deal was, nor how it was worked, but Sercomb was the fellow behind it. I'm new in the club, as I said, and you wouldn't have caught me here this morning if Sercomb hadn't asked me to come and pack up some of his traps to go by express."

"The outfit went to Ottawa, Kansas?" pursued Matt.

"Yes. That's where Borden lives, and——"

"I know about that." Matt got up. "We've found out enough, Carl," said he, "and let's go. As for you and your friends," and here Matt turned sternly on Higgins, "tell them to be a little careful. I know their game, and I'm going to fight it right from the drop of the hat."

With that Matt turned on his heel and left the basement. When he and Carl had reached the street Carl expressed his doubts as to whether Higgins had told the truth.

"I'm pretty sure he gave it to us straight, Carl," answered Matt. "The gang, almost to a man, will drive in that race, and it's high time they were on the ground. Sercomb probably went direct to the railroad station after he left Colonel Plympton's office this morning."

"Vat you going to do, hey?"

"I'm going to Kansas, too."

Carl began to get excited.

"Und me?" he asked; "vere do I come in?"

"You're going along, of course. While I hunt up Mr. Tomlinson and have a talk with him, you go to the hotel, pay our bill and get our grips. Meet me at the station."

"Hoop-a-la!" exulted Carl. "Ve vill carry der var righdt indo dem odder fellers' gamp, I bed you. Dot's der shduff!"

Mr. Tomlinson's wholesale jewelry establishment was on Seventeenth Street. After leaving Carl, Matt made his way directly to the store.

To his intense disappointment he found that Mr. Tomlinson had been called out of town by the sickness of a relative and would probably not be back for two or three days.

Matt had planned on telling Mr. Tomlinson all about what had happened since he and Carl had reached Denver; but that was impossible now, and he would have to let Colonel Plympton do the telling. So far as the result was concerned, Matt was not doing any worrying about the way Mr. Tomlinson would receive the news of Slocum's trickery. What the young motorist had wanted, however, was to point out to Mr. Tomlinson a fact that he had not mentioned to Plympton. This was, that, unless there had been collusion between Slocum and Sercomb, the latter would not have been able to secure the alleged agreement which Matt had signed. If Slocum had been acting in good faith for the Bly-Lambert people, he would have hung onto the agreement; and if he had not been acting in good faith, the whole affair at once resolved itself into a plot of Sercomb's.

Colonel Plympton, Matt had reasoned, was probably keen enough to see that for himself. Just what effect it would have on him Matt could not know, but even a shadow of suspicion, although unwarranted, would be enough to throw a driver out of the Borden cup race.

Matt had made up his mind that he could not race for Stark-Frisbie. If he did, and lost, there might always be a feeling that there had been something in the Slocum business after all, and that he had thrown the race. The chances to drive a car for the Bly-Lambert people, on the other hand, did not seem at all flattering. They had taken three races from the Stark-Frisbie firm, and quite likely the drivers who had been successful in those contests would be the ones to drive in the present race.

Mr. Tomlinson, Matt had been thinking, might know some one connected with the other manufacturers who had entered cars, and could perhaps have given him a letter of introduction that would have been of use. Now Matt found himself thrown upon his own resources, and, strange as it may seem, felt easier in his mind. Being forced to rely wholly upon himself, he marshaled all his grit and determination, and resolved to see the game through for its own sake. There is a pleasure in accomplishing things without the help of a "pull" or a "push," and Matt's blood was already tingling over the prospect of exciting events in Kansas.

At noon he was at the station, and had bought tickets for Carl and himself. Carl was in the waiting-room with the grips.

"Vat dit Misder Domlinson haf to say?" the Dutch boy inquired.

"He's out of town, Carl," answered Matt.

"Tough luck!"

"I don't know about that. There's a pleasure as well as an advantage in going it alone, on your own hook. A fellow can't keep keyed up when he's leaning on somebody else; but when he's depending on himself, he knows he has to be fit and ready for whatever comes his way."

"Meppy dot's righdt. Anyvays, Matt, you vill make goot. I know dot pedder as I know anyt'ing. Dot Sercomb und his crowd vill be surbrised, I bed you, ven dey see us come valking in on dem out in dot Gansas blace. Oof dey make some rough-houses, dey vill findt dot ve're fit und retty for dot, anyvays."

Just at that moment a voice boomed through the waiting-room announcing that the east-bound train was ready.

Matt and Carl, picking up their luggage, started at once for the train-shed.

From the sidewalk Higgins had been watching them through a window. As the two chums left the waiting-room Higgins slid in, his eyes wide with astonishment.

"They're going East," he muttered. "I wonder if they can be on their way to Kansas? What good will it do King to go there, after being turned down by Colonel Plympton?"

This was too hard a nut for Higgins to crack. He tried to find out, at the ticket window, what place Matt and Carl had booked for, but a good many people had bought tickets and the agent had not noticed Matt and Carl particularly.

Baffled in this move, Higgins stepped to a telegraph office and despatched the following message:

"Ralph Sercomb, on Limited Train No. 10, Dodge City, Kansas: King and his Dutch pal left Denver on east-bound train at noon. Unable to ascertain their destination.

Higgins."

"That puts it up to Sercomb," muttered Higgins as he paid for the message and turned away. "I'll bet there'll be warm doings in Kansas before long."