For a moment there was silence. The lawyer and the doctor who represented the railroad company looked from one to another of the Rover boys.
"Pretty shrewd, aren't you?" said the lawyer, finally.
"We have to be—in dealing with a railroad company," answered Dick, bluntly. "Now let us get to business—if that is what you came for," he continued. "We might put in a big claim for damages, and I think a jury would sustain our claim. But we want to do what is fair. The question then is, Do you want to do what is fair?"
"Why, yes, of course," returned Belright Fogg, but he did not say it very cordially.
"Very well then. That flying machine cost us twenty-eight hundred dollars new and we have spent over two hundred dollars on improvements, so when she was smashed she was worth at least three thousand dollars."
"But you can save something, can't you?" gut in the lawyer.
"Perhaps we can save the engine, and a dealer in second-hand machinery may give a hundred dollars for it. Now what I propose is this: You pay for half the value of the biplane and we'll call it square."
"Preposterous!"
"Very well then, Mr. Fogg, we'll consider the interview closed."
"If you sue, you won't get a cent, Mr. Rover."
"That remains to be seen."
"I am willing to give you five hundred dollars in place of the three hundred first offered."
"No, sir—it is fifteen hundred or nothing, Mr. Fogg."
"But you have not been hurt."
"Yes, we have been hurt. I have been to our college doctor about this lump on my head, and my brothers have been to him, too. We were badly shaken up—not as much as my brother made out, but enough. If we have to sue we'll put in our claim for personal injuries as well—and maybe for time lost from our studies."
"But fifteen hundred dollars! I—er—I can't see it," and the lawyer began to pace the floor.
"Maybe we had better sue," suggested Sam. "We might get the full amount of our loss—three thousand for theDartawayand some for our injuries."
This did not suit the lawyer at all, for he had been instructed to settle if possible and thus avoid litigation, for the railroad authorities had heard that the Rovers were rich and might make the affair cost a good deal.
"I will—er—make my offer an even thousand dollars," he said, after some more talk. "But that is my limit. If you won't take that, you'll get nothing."
"All right—we'll sue," said Dick, and he made a move as if to close the interview.
"See here, are you of age—have you authority to close this matter?" demanded Belright Fogg, suddenly.
"I can close the matter, yes," answered Dick. "My father will be perfectly satisfied with whatever I do. I transact much of his business for him."
"Ah, well then, let us consider this thing a little more, Mr. Rover." And thereupon the lawyer went all over the matter again. Presently he offered twelve hundred dollars. But Dick was firm; and in the end the lawyer said he would pay them fifteen hundred dollars the next day, provided they would sign off all claims on the railroad.
"We'll do it as soon as we see the money," answered Dick.
"Can't you trust me, Mr. Rover?" demanded Belright Fogg.
"I like to do business in a business-like way," answered Dick, coolly. "When you bring that check kindly have it certified," he added.
"Very well!" snapped the lawyer; and then he and the doctor got out, Belright Fogg stating he would return the next morning.
"Dick, you ought to be a lawyer yourself!" cried Tom. "You managed that in fine style."
"Tom helped," added Sam. "He nearly scared that doctor into a fit, talking about our aches and pains!"
"Wait—perhaps the lawyer won't come back with the money," said Dick. "He may reconsider the offer."
"You didn't say anything about the wreckage," said Sam. "Who gets that?"
"We do, Sam. They are to pay us for damages, don't you see? If they pay only that, they can't claim the wreckage."
Promptly at the appointed time the next day Belright Fogg appeared. He was a bit nervous, for the railroad officials had told him to settle at once—before the Rovers took it into their heads to bring suit.
"I have the check, certified," he said, producing the paper. "Here is what you must sign, in the presence of witnesses," he added, and brought out a legal-looking document.
"We'll call in two of the teachers," answered Dick.
The oldest Rover boy read the document over with care. It was all right, excepting that in it the railroad claimed the wreckage of theDartawayabsolutely.
"Here, this comes out," cried Dick. "The wreckage belongs to us."
At this there was another long discussion. But the Rovers remained firm, and in the end the clause concerning the wreckage was altered to show that theDartawaymust remain the boys' property. Then the three brothers signed the paper and it was duly witnessed by two teachers, and the certified check was handed to Dick.
"Very sharp young man, you are," was Belright Fogg's comment, as he was about to leave. "You ought to be a lawyer."
"Perhaps I will be some day," was Dick's answer.
"Better get that check right in the bank!" cried Sam, when he and his brothers were alone. "That fellow may stop payment on it."
"He can't stop a certified check, Sam. I'll put it in the school safe for the present. What we want to do is to look after theDartaway. She may not be worth much, but what there is of her belongs to us."
"Right you are. Let us get permission to go after her right away. For all we know, somebody may have carted her off already!"
The boys readily obtained permission to see to their property, and walked down to the college stables to get a horse and carriage to take them to the spot where the accident had occurred. Just then came a toot of an automobile horn, and a fine five-passenger car rolled into view, with Stanley Browne and a stranger on the front seats.
"Hello, you fellows!" cried Stanley, as the auto came to a stop. "Come over here! I hoped I'd see you!"
The Rovers hurried across the campus and were introduced to Jack Mason, Stanley's cousin, the driver of the car. He was passing through Ashton on the way to join his folks in the White Mountains.
"Jack wants me to take a ride with him this afternoon," said Stanley. "And I can invite three others to go along. Will you come with us?"
"That is kind," answered Dick. "But we have some business to attend to," and he related what it was.
"Say, let's take a look at the wrecked biplane!" cried Jack Mason. "I'd just as soon go there as anywhere."
"So would I," added Stanley.
"Very well—that will suit us down to the ground!" cried Tom.
"We were going to drive over in a carriage," explained Dick. "We can get there much quicker in the auto."
The boys piled into the tonneau of the car and they started off.
"Got to show me the roads," said Jack Mason. "All I know around here is the regular auto road to the White Mountains,—and I don't know that any too well."
"You can't lose us on the roads!" cried Tom. "We'll keep you straight."
Jack Mason loved to run fast and soon they were bowling along at a forty-mile-an-hour rate. Stanley and Tom told the driver what turns to make, and almost before they knew it they had passed the outskirts of Ashton and were approaching the locality where the fast Express had dashed into the crippled biplane.
"Here we are!" cried Tom, presently. "We can't go any further on the road. We'll have to walk through the woods to the tracks."
"I see a wood road!" exclaimed Jack Mason. "If the ground isn't too soft I'll try that."
He went on and passed in between the trees, and soon they were within a hundred feet of the railroad tracks. As the car came to a stop the Rover boys jumped to the ground and ran forward. Then, of a sudden, all three set up a shout:
"The biplane is gone!"
"Gone?" queried Stanley, who was close behind them.
"Yes, gone," returned Tom.
"Are you sure this is the spot where it was struck?"
"Of course I am."
"There are the marks where we landed and where the locomotive hit theDartaway,"said Sam. He looked around. "Wonder who took her, and to where?"
"That's to be found out," answered Dick, seriously.
"I don't see any airship," said Jack Mason, as he came up, having shut off the engine of the touring car.
"Somebody has hauled it away," answered Dick. He looked on both sides of the track. "This is queer," he added, presently. "I can't see any marks in the sand or mud or bushes. She'd make marks if anybody hauled her."
"I've got it!" cried Tom. "They hoisted her on a flat car! The railroad people have taken her!"
"But she is our biplane!" cried Sam, stubbornly.
"Maybe they took her to the freight house in Ashton," suggested Stanley.
"We'll soon find out—if you'll take us there in the auto."
"Sure!" answered Jack Mason, promptly.
The boys were about to leave the neighborhood when they heard the strokes of an axe, ringing through the woods.
"There's a wood chopper!" cried Dick. "Maybe he knows something about this. I guess I'll ask him."
They soon located the man—an elderly individual who worked for the farmer who owned the woods.
"Yes, I see 'em hoist the airship on the flat car," said he, in answer to their questions. "Had quite a job o' it, too."
"Did they take it to Ashton?" queried Dick.
"No. They was goin' to fust, but then Jimmy Budley—the section boss—said it would be better to take it up to the freight yards at Rallston."
"And they took it there?"
"I 'spect they did. They went off that way, anyway," replied the old wood chopper.
"To the Rallston freight yards!" cried Sam. "What a nerve!"
"I'll make 'em bring it back!" cried Dick, firmly.
"How far is it to Rallston?" asked Jack Mason.
"About nine miles."
"Pooh! that's nothing. Jump in and I'll take you there in no time—if the road's any good."
"The road is O. K.," answered Dick.
The automobile was backed out of the woods, and turned in the direction of Rallston. Jack Mason was in his element, and in less than twenty minutes they came in sight of the town and turned into a side street leading to the freight yards.
"There she is!" cried Sam, a minute later.
He pointed to one of the tracks in the yards and there, on a flat car, the boys beheld the wreck of the biplane. A small crowd of curious men and boys surrounded the remains of theDartaway.
"What yer going to do with her, Jimmy?" asked a man in the crowd, of a burly individual on the flat car.
"I guess the railroad is going to sell her," replied the section boss.
"Did you hear what that man said?" demanded Sam in a whisper, of his brothers.
"I did," returned Dick. "But he isn't going to sell our property," added Tom, warmly.
"Hardly," responded Dick. He pushed his way through the crowd and walked straight up to the flat car.
"Who is in charge here?" he demanded.
"What's that?" came in some surprise from the section boss.
"I asked who was in charge of this flat car with this flying machine?"
"What business is that of yours, young fellow?"
"This is our biplane—it belongs to me and my brothers here," and Dick waved his hand at Tom and Sam.
"Oh! Are you the Rover brothers?"
"Yes. And I want to know what business you had to bring that flying machine here?" went on Dick sharply, for he saw the kind of a man with whom he had to deal.
"Say, look here, if you've got any kick coming you go to the office with it," cried Jimmy Budley.
"Very well, I will. But I want to know who ordered you to bring that biplane here."
"Never mind; you go to the office and find out."
"You brought it here, didn't you?" asked Tom, who had now come up to Dick's side, along with the others.
"I ain't answering questions when I don't have to," returned the section boss, with a sneer.
"Sure he brought it here—on this flat car!" cried a man in the crowd. "Why don't you answer the young fellow straight, Jimmy?"
"This biplane belongs to my brothers and me," went on Dick, as sharply as before. "You had absolutely no right to touch it. If I wished to do so, I could have you arrested for this," he continued.
"Say, I don't allow nobody to talk to me like that!" growled the section boss. "You git out of here and see the men at the office."
"We'll not get out!" put in Tom. "This flying machine is ours and we want it."
"You'll take it right back to where you found it," added Sam. "And be careful that you don't break it worse than it is, or you'll foot the bill."
"I won't listen to you!" stormed the section boss, who was of an ugly disposition naturally and not liked in the neighborhood.
"Very well then," answered Dick. He turned to Stanley. "Will you go out and see if you can find a policeman?" he asked, loudly.
"Sure," returned the college youth, readily.
"Wow! he's goin' to have Budley locked up!" exclaimed a small boy.
"See here, don't you get fresh!" stormed the section boss, eying Dick angrily.
"We'll have a policeman settle this," answered the oldest Rover boy. "This is our property, and we can easily prove it. You had no right to touch it."
"I had orders," said Jimmy Budley, doggedly.
"Why don't you telephone to the office, Jimmy?" suggested a friend. "Maybe there was some mistake."
"Wasn't no mistake," growled the section boss; nevertheless he hopped down from the flat car and hurried in the direction of a shanty wherein was located a telephone. Dick followed him.
"You can tell them what I said," said the youth; "And they may find it to their interest to call up Mr. Belright Fogg before they give you orders."
"Have you seen Fogg?" demanded the section boss.
"Yes."
"Did he say you could take the machine?"
"He said nothing about our taking it. He settled for what damage the railroad did to the biplane. We went to get our property and found it gone. Nobody had a right to touch it, excepting to take it from the tracks."
"Huh!" grumbled the section boss, and shot into the shanty, banging the door behind him. Dick heard him shout something into the telephone, and quite a lengthy conversation ensued.
In the meanwhile Stanley had gone off for a policeman and presently came back with a bluecoat who did duty in the streets beyond the railroad yards.
"Well, what have you got to say about it?" demanded Dick, when the section bass came from the shanty and while Stanley and the policeman were approaching. "Do we get our property or not?"
"It's yours," returned the railroad man, and his voice was much milder than before. "They had no right to give me the orders they did."
"What about taking it back?" went on Dick.
"I've got orders to take it to any place where you want it," answered the section boss, and he looked anything but happy as he made the confession.
"Then you can run it down to Ashton," answered Dick. "Will you do it right away?"
"I guess so—I'll see," was the answer.
"What do you want me for?" asked the policeman, as he came up.
"I don't believe you'll be needed—now," answered Dick.
"It's all right, Murphy," put in Jimmy Budley, quickly. "We had a misunderstanding over orders, that's all."
"This young man told me a flying machine had been stolen," said Murphy, and nodded towards Stanley.
"It was a misunderstanding. I wasn't to blame." The section boss turned to Dick. "I'll get a freight engine to run the car with the machine down to Ashton inside of an hour."
"Very well," answered Dick. "And be careful that the biplane isn't damaged in unloading."
"She ain't much but kindlin' wood now," and the section boss smiled a trifle.
"Well, the engine is all right—and that's the valuable part of her," returned Dick. "I'll look for her at Ashton in an hour."
"Want to ride down on the flat car with her?"
"I'll see about that."
The matter was talked over, and in the end it was agreed that Dick and Sam should ride on the flat car, while Tom went with Stanley and Jack Mason in the automobile. Then the section boss went off to get the freight engine to haul the flat car.
"Got out of that better than I expected," whispered Sam to his big brother.
"It pays to put on a front, Sam," was the answer. "If I had been weak-kneed about it that fellow wouldn't have done a thing."
"Oh, you've got a head for business, Dick—I can see that," said the youngest Rover, admiringly.
"I hope so, Sam—for I think I'll need it soon."
"You mean for helping Dad?"
"Yes,"
"It's too bad he has these weak spells, isn't it?"
"Yes. What he needs, I think, is a good, long rest."
The others went off in the touring auto, and Dick and Sam made themselves at home on the flat car. Soon a freight engine backed up, the car was attached; and off they started, in company with the section boss and two track laborers, in the direction of Ashton.
As the Rovers could readily see, theDartawaywas a complete wreck, beyond the possibility of being repaired. But the motor looked to be in good order, and the stays and turn-buckles would, of course, be worth something.
When Ashton was reached Sam and Dick found that the automobile and its party had gotten there ahead of them.
"I've found a place where we can store the biplane—or what's left of it," said Tom. "In that barn," and he pointed to a structure directly beside the tracks.
"Good enough!" cried Dick. "That will save the trouble and expense of hauling it any distance."
The flat car was stopped in front of the barn, and after some trouble the remains of the biplane were transferred to the structure. Then the section boss brought out a receipt which Dick signed.
"Next time I move a flying machine I'll make sure that orders are O. K.," he remarked, grimly.
"It might save a lot of trouble," answered Tom, dryly.
"Tell me—didn't you act on orders from that lawyer, Fogg?" questioned Dick, curiously.
"I did—if you want to know."
"I thought so. He's too sharp for his own good."
"You're right—and maybe he'll catch it for this," answered Jimmy Budley; and then he and his men rode away on the flat car, leaving our friends to themselves.
"Well, now you've got the wreckage, what are you going to do with it?" questioned Stanley.
"Offer it to the folks who build flying machines," answered Dick. "I'll write the letters to-night."
With the biplane off their minds, the Rovers rejoined their friends in the automobile, and took a run through the country for fifty miles or more. They stopped at a country hotel, and there Dick treated to cake, ice cream and other refreshments.
The letters to the flying machine manufacturers brought various replies. Several did not care to buy the wreckage at all, while others offered a ridiculously low price.
"This doesn't look encouraging," was Dick's comment. "Boys, I guess we'll have to pocket our share of the loss."
The next day, however, came another letter, one from a young aviator of Worcester. He wrote that he had heard that they had the wreckage for sale and if it was still on the market he would come and look at it.
"Maybe he'll give us a little more than those manufacturers offer," said Sam, hopefully.
The letter was answered, and the young aviator came on the next day, going first to inspect the remains of theDartawayand then coming up to the college.
"Pretty well smashed," said he, to the Rover boys. "About all that is good is the motor and fittings."
"But that engine is a dandy," said Tom.
"How much do you want for the outfit as it stands?"
"I don't know," answered Dick. "The biplane cost us about three thousand dollars."
"Yes, but she's a complete wreck. All I can use is the engine—and maybe a few other things."
"Well, make an offer," put in Tom.
"I might pay three hundred dollars."
"Make it double that and the machine is yours," returned Dick.
"No, it wouldn't be worth six hundred dollars to me," answered the young aviator.
A discussion lasting the best part of half an hour ensued. The aviator went up to four hundred dollars and then to four hundred and fifty. Finally, Dick said he would accept five hundred dollars cash; and the bargain was concluded at that figure. The money was paid over, and the Rover boys gave the purchaser a bill of sale, and he departed without delay, stating he wished to make arrangements for shipping the wrecked biplane away.
"Not so bad, after all," declared Dick, when the brothers were alone.
"It's very good," put in Tom.
"That's the end of theDartaway,"came from Sam, mournfully. "Well, we had some pretty good times in her while she lasted."
"Say, I've got to have some fun or bust!"
It was Tom who uttered the words. For over a week everything had run along smoothly at Brill College. The boys had settled down to their studies. They had sent letters home, and to the girls, and had received several communications in return. They had been congratulated on their escape from the wrecking of the biplane, and Dora had written to Dick urging him to give up flying.
"I'm going to give it up for a while, at least," Dick had answered. During those days the search had been kept up for Josiah Crabtree, but so far nothing had been heard of the fugitive from justice. That the man had left the neighborhood was quite probable.
"What sort of fun do you want, Tom?" asked Sam, throwing down the book he had been studying.
"Oh, anything," was the answer. "I feel as if I was getting musty and rusty, and I've simply got to do something. Wish there was a hazing on, or something like that," and the fun-loving Rover gazed moodily out of the window.
"Now don't you get yourself into trouble, Tom," warned Dick. "Better get at that theme you've got to write on 'Educational Institutions of the Revolutionary Period'."
"Hang the themes, Dick! I've got to have some fun—and I'm going out for it!" answered Tom, and catching up his cap he passed out of the dormitory.
"Guess I'll go, too," added Sam, and quickly followed. Soon Dick came also, not wishing to be left behind if anything unusual was to take place.
In the lower hallway the boys found several men at work, cleaning and oiling the hardwood floor. They had a box of wax polish with them, and this immediately gave Tom an idea.
"I'd like to buy a little of that," he said, to the head workman, and a bargain was quickly struck, and the fun-loving Rover walked away with half a box of the wax polish.
"What are you going to do with it?" asked Sam.
"Don't know yet—but I'll do something," was the reply.
"Looks like maple sugar candy," said Dick, gazing at the wax.
"Wait! I've struck it!" cried Tom. "Just the thing! Hurray!" And his face brightened.
"What is it, Tom?" asked both of his brothers.
"I'll make William Philander Tubbs a present of this," was the reply. "Come on, and watch how I do it."
"William Philander has gone to see that new, girl of his," answered Sam.
"Not just yet—but he'll be on the way soon. I'll have to hurry, if I want to do something."
Tom led the way up a back stairs and to the room occupied that term by Tubbs and some other students. They met the dudish student, half dressed, going to the lavatory to wash up.
"Quick!" cried Tom. "I hope I can find the box."
"What box?" asked Dick, as he and Sam followed Tom into Tubbs' room.
"The box of candy he bought for Miss Ruggles. It was a dandy—but maybe we can improve it just a little," and Tom grinned broadly.
All looked around and presently found the box of candy on a dresser. It was tied up with a blue ribbon, but this Tom slipped off with ease. Inside of the box were chocolates and bonbons and some candied fruit.
"Hold the box, Sam," said Tom, whipping out his knife. "We've got to move mighty quick!"
On the instant he was at work with his pocket-knife, cutting the floor wax into various shapes to resemble candy. He took out some of the candied fruit and substituted the wax. Then he felt in his pocket.
"This will help," he said, bringing forth a soapstone slate pencil, which he cracked into tiny lengths. "The candy that lasts!" he cried softly, as he dropped the bits into the box.
"Rather rough on the girl," declared Dick.
"Not at all, Dick," said Sam. "I was introduced to her last week and the very next day she passed me on the road with a stare as if she had never seen me."
"And Stanley says she is stuck up to the last degree," added Tom. "Maybe this will take her down a peg—anyway I hope so."
Sam was searching his pockets. He brought out several dried beans and a heavy rubber elastic.
"The remains of a slingshot and ammunition I confiscated from a Freshy who was taking shots at me," he explained.
"Drop the beans in—they'll look like jelly beans!" cried Tom. "And cut up that rubber band into pieces for jujube-paste!"
Dick was at the door on guard, and presently he gave a low whistle, to notify the others that Tubbs was coming back. Instantly Tom shut the candy box, put back the paper covering and ribbon; and then he and Sam slipped out of the dormitory by a side door, so that the dudish student might not see them.
Such a joke as had been played Tom could not keep to himself, and when the Rovers went downstairs he told Stanley, Songbird and Spud Jackson.
"Fine!" cried Stanley. "That Miss Ruggles deserves it, too. She thinks, just because her father has rocks, that she is too good to even recognize any of us. The only fellow she tolerates is Tubby—I guess because he's such a dude."
Tom wanted to follow William Philander Tubbs when he went to see the young lady, who was stopping with an aunt who lived not far from Brill. The others were willing, and all hung around the campus until the stylish student made his appearance.
"She's crazy for candy—Tubby told me so himself," said Spud. "Eats about a barrelful a week, so I understand. That's why he got her the box, I guess."
"If she eats that boxful she'll be a good one," was Tom's dry comment.
It was not long before Tubbs appeared. The stylish student was faultlessly attired, in light trousers, dark Prince Albert coat, white vest, spats, and a silk hat. In one hand he carried a cane and in the other the box of candy.
"My, but we are some swell!" murmured Sam.
"He ought to pose for a fashion magazine," returned Tom. "Keep back, fellows, or he'll spot us!" And he pulled those nearest to him behind some shrubbery.
William Philander passed them and they followed at a safe distance in the darkness. The dudish student headed directly for the house at which Miss Clarabel Ruggles was stopping, and the others saw him ascend the front piazza and ring the bell. A servant ushered him in, and the boys saw the light turned up in a parlor.
"Come on and see the fun," said Tom, and led the way across a lawn. The curtains to the parlor windows were half up, so they could look into the room with ease. One window was partly open for ventilation.
They saw William Philander sitting in a chair, the box of candy on his lap. Presently Clarabel Ruggles came in, attired in an elaborate evening gown. Tubbs at once arose to his feet and, bowing very low, accepted her hand, which was held on high. Then the dudish student said something and offered the box of candy.
"Oh, is this really for me!" those outside heard the young lady cry, the words coming through the partly open window.
"No, he bought it for the cat!" murmured Tom, and at this the others had to snicker.
"A—er—a slight token of my regard, don't you know," said William Philander, with a flourish.
"So kind of you, Mr. Tubbs!" The girl gazed hungrily at the box. "Shall I open it now?"
"If you wish to," answered the dudish student, gallantly.
"I will—and you shall have a share of the candy," said the young lady, and quickly drew off the ribbon and paper. "Oh, my, how perfectly delicious!" she murmured. "Oh, Mr. Tubbs, how could you guess just the kind I like!"
"Help yourself, my dear Miss Ruggles," said Tubbs, as the box was held out. "Ladies first, don't you know," and he smiled sweetly.
She took a candy and he did likewise, and as they ate they talked of various things. Then the box was passed back and forth.
"Yes, I came to see if you would go to the—er—to the—er——" stammered William Philander, and then he came to a dead halt. "Oh, my tooth!" he gasped, suddenly.
"What is it, Mr. Tubbs?"
"I—er—I really think I've broken one of my—er—teeth, don't you know!" gasped the stylish student. "Oh, dear, that candy is awfully hard!"
"I didn't find it so, Mr. Tubbs. Here, try another piece," answered the young lady, and helped both him and herself. "As you were going to say," she added, with a smile. "Was it that concert that——" She, too, stopped short. "Oh, my!" she gasped.
"Wha—what is it?" stammered William Philander.
"This piece of candy I have! It tastes awfully queer!"
"So does this piece I have!" groaned the dudish student.
"Oh, Mr. Tubbs, what kind of candy is it anyway? My teeth are—are stuck fast in it!"
At this moment the aunt of the young lady came in. She looked in wonder at the others, for both were making wry faces.
"It's the candy, Aunt Mabel!" cried the young lady. "It—it tastes so queer!"
"Ha! Let me see that box?" exclaimed the aunt, who was a portly person. "I read in the newspaper only yesterday of some folks being poisoned by eating cheap candy." And she looked severely at poor Tubbs.
"This is—er—not cheap candy, my dear Mrs. Garlett," spluttered William Philander. "It is some of the best to be had in Ashton, I assure you."
By this time the lady had taken something from the box and was sampling it. As it chanced to be a piece of the rubber band she made slow progress in chewing it.
"I never saw such candy!" she declared, with vigor. She took another piece. "That was all right," she added, a moment later. "But this piece! Why, I declare, it tastes like wax! And it is wax, too," she continued, inspecting the lump more closely.
"Wax!" gasped poor William Philander, hollowly.
"Yes, wax, Mr. Tubbs."
"Oh, you must be mistaken, my dear Mrs. Garlett!"
"Humph! I think I know wax when I see it. And this is rubber—nothing but rubber!"
"Oh, Aunt Clarabel!" murmured the young lady.
"Let me look at that box!" cried the lady of the house. She commenced to make an inspection, holding the box close to a lamp. "Humph! Rubber bands, beans, slate pencils, and polishing wax!" she declared. "Mr. Tubbs, do you call this a box of candy?"
"Upon my word, Mrs. Garlett, I——" gasped the dudish student. He did not know how to finish.
"It's just some old horrid joke!" declared Miss Ruggles, haughtily. "One of your college jokes, I presume!" And she gazed scornfully at poor Tubbs.
"No, no, I—er—I didn't—I really——" gasped William Philander.
"You can have your box of candy back, Mr. Tubbs," went on the girl, sarcastically. "I do not wish it. And allow me to bid you good evening!" And with a stately bow she passed out of the room.
"I'll keep this box of so-called candy and have it investigated," said Mrs. Garlett. "I don't want to be poisoned. Good night, Mr. Tubbs."
"But, my dear Mrs. Garlett——"
"I said good night," interrupted the lady of the house. "Mary will show you to the door," she added, and then, in complete bewilderment, poor William Philander rushed out of the residence, and along the garden walk in the direction of the road leading to Brill.
"I rather think that was rough on William Philander," remarked Dick, with a serious shake of his head.
"Oh, he has got to be taken down somehow," replied Tom, "That's right," added Stanley. "Why, the way he acts towards some of the fellows is outrageous. Just because they don't dress as well as he does he thinks them beneath his notice."
"And I wouldn't waste any sympathy on that girl," put in Spud. "She is as bad as Tubby, when it comes to cutting the fellows she doesn't care to know."
"Well, I guess it will all pass over," remarked Sam. And it must have, for a few days later William Philander and Clarabel Ruggles were seen out driving together and apparently as friendly as over. The dudish student had sent the young lady a letter stating he thought some of his fellow collegians had doctored the box of candy, and this explanation was accepted by the girl and her aunt. Then William Philander sent the girl some candy he was sure was all right, and also a big bouquet of roses; and that was the end of the unpleasantness.
It must not be thought that in those days the girls at Hope Seminary were forgotten. Whenever the Rover boys got a chance they visited the place, and many a nice time they and the girls had together. On those occasions Dick and Dora would roam off together, the others making no attempt to follow them, and the pair would plan the many things they hoped to do in the future.
"You have not heard from Josiah Crabtree, have you?" questioned Dick, on one of these visits.
"Not a word—and I don't want to hear from him," replied Dora.
"He's in hiding, but he'll let us hear from him sooner or later—mark my words."
"Oh, I wish he hadn't escaped, Dick!" And Dora clung tightly to his arm.
"Well, that can't be helped."
"Is there anything new about your father's business?"
"Nothing of any importance."
"How does he feel?"
"In his last letter he said he felt somewhat better and was going to take a trip to New York. How is your mother?"
"Quite well. But the fact that old Crabtree is at large disturbs her very much. As soon as she heard of it, she went over to the Lanings' home to stay."
The boys had driven over to Hope in a carriage. When they started to return to Brill it was quite dark.
"We've got to hurry up," remarked Tom, as they rode away, Sam driving the team.
"Why so?" asked Dick. "We have no boning to do to-night."
"Have you forgotten the spread Bob Grimes is going to give? He said it was to be the finest yet given at Brill, and I don't want to miss it."
"That's so!" cried Dick. "Sure, we want to be on hand, since we are invited. Bob is a first-class fellow."
"Queer we forgot about that feast," murmured Sam. "But I suppose we were thinking too much of the girls," and he grinned sheepishly.
"What time is the spread to come off, Tom?" asked his big brother.
"Ten o'clock sharp, so Bob said."
"In his room?"
"His room and the one next to it. They connect, you know."
"We'll get there in plenty of time—unless we have a breakdown—which I don't expect."
"Don't be too sure of that. This carriage is none too good. I said so when Abner Filbury brought it around for me."
"The wheels do appear to be somewhat shaky," remarked Sam.
"We miss the biplane, for making quick trips," returned Tom, with a sigh. "We ought to get a runabout—an auto runabout, I mean."
"That's the talk!" cried his younger brother. "If we had one of those we could run over to Hope whenever we pleased."
The main road was being repaired, so, at a certain place, the boys had to turn off on a side road for a distance of nearly a mile. Here the going was anything but good, and they went down in more than one rut or hollow.
"Be careful, Sam!" warned Dick. "Don't drive so fast."
"Oh, go ahead," put in Tom, impatiently. "We are losing a lot of time on this side road."
Just then came a narrow turn, with a down grade, very uneven and full of rocks. Over the latter bumped the carriage. Then came a sudden jounce, followed by a crash.
"Whoa!" yelled Sam to the team, and brought them to a standstill at the foot of the hill.
"What broke?" asked Dick, anxiously.
"The back axle, I think," answered Tom, as he leaped to the ground.
The boys had a lantern with them and with this they looked for the damage done. Tom's guess proved correct—the back axle had given way close to the left wheel.
"What's to be done now?" asked Sam, in some dismay. "Say, I don't think that was my fault," he added, quickly.
"I told you to be careful," returned Dick. "Now we are in a pickle and no mistake."
"If we had a wire we might bind up that axle," said Tom, looking at the fracture, which was in the form of a long split.
"But we haven't any," said Dick. He looked into the carriage. "Nothing here but the hitching strap and I don't think that will do."
"There is a farmhouse," said Sam, pointing to a light in a nearby field. "Maybe I can get help there."
"We'll see," said Dick. "Just draw up alongside the fence—so that nobody will run into the carriage. Now that the main road is shut off, everybody has to use this one."
Soon the carriage was safe by the roadside, and then the three Rovers hurried to where the light gleamed from the kitchen windows of a small farmhouse. Dick knocked on the door of the place.
There was a stir from within, and then the door was opened, revealing an old man, who held a lighted lamp in his trembling hand.
"Who be yeou?" he drawled.
"We have had a breakdown on the road," answered Dick. "We thought we might get some help here."
"A breakdown, eh? What sort?" And the old man gazed curiously at the boys.
In a few brief words the Rovers explained matters.
"If you can let us have some wire, or straps, we'll pay you for them," went on Dick.
"I hain't got much," replied the old man. "I'm poor, I am—with havin' sech rheumatism I can't work the farm. But yeou kin look in the barn an' see wot there is."
The boys waited to hear no more, but hurried to the structure indicated—a building all but ready to fall down. In a harness closet they found a few old straps and a coil of fence wire.
"I guess these will answer," said Dick.
"Anyway, let us try them. Sam, you go back and pay the old man whatever he wants, while Tom and I do the mending."
"All right," answered the youngest Rover, and hurried off in the direction of the farm-house.
Sam found the old man sitting by a small table, eating a frugal meal of beans and bread and coffee.
"We found three old straps and some fence wire," said the youth. "What do you suppose they are worth?"
"Well, I'm a poor man, I be," whined the old man. "I don't think yeou be goin' to rob a poor, old man."
"Not at all," answered Sam, kindly. "How much do you want?"
"Them tudder fellers wot had a breakdown give me a dollar fer wot they got," said the old man, shrewdly.
"If I give you a dollar, will that be all right?"
"I guess so," answered the old man. He knew what three straps and what wire were meant, and knew they were not worth half the amount offered.
"Who had the other breakdown?" asked Sam, as he handed over a dollar bill.
"Some fellers in an autymobile—a couple o' weeks ago, or so."
"Some men in an automobile!" cried Sam, with sudden interest. "Who were they?"
"I dunno. They left the autymobile in the barn one night an' come fer it the next day. They give me a dollar."
"How many men?"
"Two I think there was, although one on 'em kept putty well out o' sight, as if he didn't want to be seen."
"How did the man look that you saw?"
"Oh, he was a tall feller, with a face that stuck out here," and the old man pointed to his chin.
"And did he have real heavy eyebrows?"
"He sure did—eyebrows 'most as heavy as a moustache."
"How did the other man look?"
"I dunno—didn't git no good sight o' him. But, say, wot you askin' about them fer? Do you know 'em?"
"I think I know one of the men, but I am not sure," returned Sam, and went outside to join his brothers.
Dick and Tom were deeply interested in what the old farmer had told their brother, and as soon as the strapping and wiring of the split axle was completed all of the boys went into the house to ask the farmer more about the two men and the automobile.
"I can't tell yeou nuthin' more," said the farmer. "They left the autymobile in the barn all night an' paid me a dollar fer it. I don't know who they was, or where they went."
"Can you remember the date this happened?" asked Dick.
"I certainly kin do that, fer it was on my birthday, the tenth."
"The day Crabtree escaped!" murmured Dick, and Sam and Tom nodded.
"Where did they go?" asked Tom.
"I dunno. They went off at night."
This was all the old farmer could tell, and a few minutes later the boys left him. All were rather thoughtful as they got into the carriage once more and drove off.
"Just to think of it!" cried Tom. "Crabtree was around here a night and a day, and nobody knew it!"
"It's too bad we didn't get news of it before," returned Dick. "We might have followed up that 'autymobile,' as the old man called it. But it's too late now. They must be miles and miles away. Crabtree may be in Canada, or on his way to Africa, or China."
"I don't believe he'd go to Africa or China," said Tom. "I think he'll hang around, trying to do us or the Stanhopes or Lanings an injury."
"Just what I think," put in Sam. "I'd like to know who the fellow with the pointed chin and heavy eyebrows is."
"He must be some old friend, or he wouldn't help Crabtree to get away."
"Either an old friend, or else Crabtree paid him pretty well for his services."
"Well, Crabtree is gone, and that is all there is to it."
All the way to Brill the boys discussed the situation. At first they thought they would notify the authorities about what they had learned, but finally concluded that this would do no good. Too much time had elapsed since the automobile had stopped at the old farmhouse.
Arriving at the college, they turned the carriage over to Abner Filbury, explaining about the axle and offering to pay for the damage done. Then they hurried to their room, to get ready for the feast Bob Grimes was to give.
As they entered the dormitory they saw a letter lying on the table. It bore a special delivery stamp and was addressed to Dick.
"Hello, what's this?" cried the oldest Rover boy; "A letter from home, and sent by special delivery. What can it mean?"
"No bad news, I hope," said Sam, his face sobering.
"Read it, Dick," put in Tom. "It must be something important."
Sam and Tom watched with interest while Dick tore open the envelope and took out the letter it contained. The oldest Rover boy scanned the communication hastily.
"What is it?" questioned both of his brothers, impatiently.
"It's from Uncle Randolph," replied Dick. "He says father went to New York several days ago."
"Is that all?"
"No, he adds that he sent father a telegram and so far no answer has come back," went on Dick, seriously. "He thinks something has happened to dad."
"Oh, Dick," cried Sam. "What could happen to him?"
"A great many things, Sam—in a big city like New York. He might get run down by a street car, or an automobile, or be hurt in the subway, or on the elevated railroad. He wasn't very well, remember."
"Yes, I know that. Is that all?"
"Uncle Randolph wants to know at once whether we have heard from dad during the past three days."
"We haven't had a word," broke in Tom "I thought it kind of strange, too."
The other boys read the letter, and then the three talked the matter over. They were interrupted by a knock on the door, and Stanley appeared.
"Going to the spread, aren't you?" he questioned. "Hurry up—it's getting late."
"I don't think I can go," answered Dick. "I've got something I must attend to—this letter from my uncle," and he held the communication up. "Sam and Tom can go."
"I don't feel much like it—now," murmured Sam.
"Neither do I," added Tom.
"Oh, you might as well go," urged Dick. "I'll attend to the message to Uncle Randolph. Everything may be all right—and there is no use of the three of us disappointing Bob. You go, and explain why I didn't come."
"Maybe you can come later," suggested Stanley.
"I'll see. But I must get word to my uncle first," answered Dick.
While Sam and Tom got ready to attend the spread Bob Grimes was to give, Dick hurried downstairs again. In the hallway he ran into Paul Orben, one of the older students whom he knew real well.
"Why in such a hurry, Dick?" questioned Paul, good-naturedly grabbing him by the shoulder.
"I want to get to town—to send a telegram home," answered Dick. Then, struck by a sudden idea, he added: "Paul, is your motorcycle ready for use?"
"It is, and if you want to use it to run down to Ashton with, take it," answered the other, readily. He had once been up in theDartawayand was glad of a chance to pay the debt he thought he owed the Rovers.
"Thanks very much, I'll use it," returned Dick.
"Come on, then, and I'll make sure that it is all right."
The two young collegians hurried to a room attached to the gymnasium, where bicycles, motorcycles, and other things were kept. Soon the motorcycle was brought out and Paul gave it a brief inspection.
"All right," he announced. "I thought it would be."
"Then I'm off," answered Dick, and pushing the machine along the path towards the road, he hopped into the seat and turned on the power.
Dick had never had much experience in running a motorcycle, but he had tried one enough to know how it should be handled, and soon he was well on his way and riding at a fair rate of speed. The road was good, and he had a fine headlight, and almost before he knew it he had reached Ashton and was approaching the depot.
He had been afraid the ticket and telegraph office would be closed, but he found the man inside, making up a report.
"I want to rush a message home," he said. "And I want to arrange to have it telephoned to our house. I will pay the bill, whatever it is."
"It will depend on whether we can get the operator at Oak Run," said the man. "He may have locked up for the night."
The message was written out, and Dick waited in the depot for an answer. Quarter of an hour passed slowly and then the telegraph operator came to him.
"Sorry, Mr. Rover, but Oak Run doesn't answer. I guess the office is closed for the night."
"Try for Spotstown," said Dick, naming another railroad station several miles further from his home.
Again came a wait.
"Same story—can't get Spotstown, either," said the operator.
"Well, I've got to get somebody, somehow," murmured the oldest Rover boy. "I guess you can get New York City, can't you?" he asked, with a faint smile.
"Of course."
"Then I'll write another message."
Dick knew that when his father was in the habit of going to the metropolis he usually stopped at a large place on Broadway, which I shall call the Outlook Hotel. He accordingly addressed a message to the manager of that hotel, as follows:
"Is Anderson Rover at your hotel? If so, have him telegraph me; otherwise send me word at once."
"Now I guess I'll hear something," thought Dick, as he turned in this telegram and paid for having it transmitted. "Send itRush, please," he told the operator.
Again there was a wait—this time of nearly half an hour. At last the instrument commenced to click in the telegraph office, and Dick waited anxiously while the man took the message down.
"Is it for me?" he asked. And the man nodded, as he continued to write.
When the sheet was passed over the operator looked curiously at Dick—a look that made the youth's heart sink. With a hand that trembled in spite of his efforts to steady it, the oldest Rover boy held up the paper and read this:
"Anderson Rover was at this hotel until yesterday morning. His baggage is here. Bill unpaid. Left no word.Thomas A. Garley,Manager."
"Anderson Rover was at this hotel until yesterday morning. His baggage is here. Bill unpaid. Left no word.
Thomas A. Garley,Manager."
"Gone!" murmured Dick, brokenly. "'Left no word,' 'Bill unpaid!' What can it mean?"
"Something unusual, eh?" said the operator, as he took the bankbill the youth handed out to him for the message and gave back the change.
"Very unusual," was the reply. "I don't know what to make of this." Dick thought for a moment. "I suppose I can't get a train home before morning."
"No, the first train for you is the eight-forty-five to-morrow."
"Too bad! I wish there was a train right away."
There was no help for it, and a few minutes later the youth left the depot, and jumping on the motorcycle, started back for Brill College.
As he rode along Dick's thoughts were busy. What had taken his parent to New York and why had he disappeared so mysteriously?
"He certainly must have gone there on business—the business that has been bothering him so long," he mused. "But would that cause him to disappear? Maybe he had an accident, or was waylaid for his money."
A thousand thoughts surged through poor Dick's brain, but he could reach no definite conclusion regarding his father's disappearance. Yet he was certain of one thing.
"He didn't leave the hotel that way of his own accord," he reasoned. "He would pay his bill and look after his baggage. It's for some outside reason that he didn't return to his hotel and answer Uncle Randolph's telegram."
When Dick arrived at the college he put the motorcycle away and went directly to his room. Sam and Tom were still away, but he heard them returning just as he was on the point of going after them. As they came in, he motioned for them to close and lock the door. Fortunately, they had their rooms to themselves, Songbird, their only roommate, having gone away for the night.
"What did you learn, Dick?" asked both brothers, quickly.
"Not much—and still a great deal," he answered, and told them how he had tried to send word home and had then called up the hotel in the metropolis.
"What do you make of this?" asked Tom, after he and Sam had read the brief message from the hotel manager.
"Do you think he met with an accident?" questioned Sam.
"I don't know what to think."
"It looks mighty suspicious to me—the bill unpaid and baggage left behind," murmured Tom. Then of a sudden he drew a sharp breath. "Oh, Dick, do you think——" And then Tom stopped short.
"What, Tom?"
"I—I hate to say it, but do you think it's possible that dad got—got a little bit out of his head—with that business worrying him?"
"It's possible, Tom. Men have been known to get that way from business troubles, and dad was far from well, we all know that."
"He should have taken somebody to New York with him," put in Sam. "But it's no use talking about that now. The question is, What are we going to do? I can't stay here and study when he is missing."
"Not much—I couldn't study a thing!" cried Tom.
"I know what I am going to do," replied Dick. "I am going to take that early train home, and see Uncle Rudolph. I'll send another message to that hotel manager, too, and then, unless we get word that everything is O. K., I'm going to New York as fast as I can get there."
"And I'll go along!" cried each of the two brothers.
"Yes, that might be best—for if he is still missing we may have a great task to learn what became of him. We'll have to hunt the hospitals, and the police headquarters, and the—the——" Dick was going to add "morgue," but he could not bring himself to utter the word. It was too awful to think that their father might be dead.
"We'll have to explain to Doctor Wallington, or Professor Blackie," said Tom.
"And send word to the girls," added Sam.
"I don't want to worry anybody more than I have to," said Dick. "This may turn out all right after all," he added. But he had his doubts. That something unusual had happened to his father he was certain.
The boys spent some little time in packing their suitcases with such things as they deemed necessary for the trip, and then turned out the lights and went to bed. But none of them slept well. All tumbled and tossed on their couches, trying in vain to solve the mystery that surrounded the disappearance of their parent.
They were up an hour earlier than usual, and it was Dick who took the liberty to knock on the door of the head of the institution.
"Who is it?" asked the worthy doctor, and the young collegian told him. A moment later the head of the college appeared, wrapped in a dressing gown.
"I am sorry to disturb you, sir," said Dick. "But something has happened that has upset me and my brothers a great deal." And he briefly related the condition of affairs, and asked leave of absence for himself and Tom and Sam.
"This is certainly alarming," said Doctor Wallington, sympathetically. "I trust your father is speedily found and that nothing serious has happened to him. Yes, you may go, and remain as long as is necessary. When he is found, let me know."
"Thank you, sir," said Dick, and after a few words more he hurried off. Then he and his brothers got an early breakfast, and had Abner Filbury drive them to the Ashton depot. Only a handful of students saw them depart.
"Wish you success, boys!" cried Stanley after them.
"Yes, indeed," added Spud. "Keep up a stout heart. Maybe it's all right, after all. There may be some mistake somewhere."
"Oak Run! All out for Oak Run!"
It was the familiar cry of the brakeman of the train, as the cars rolled into the little station at which the Rover boys were to alight. The ride from Ashton had been without incident. They had had to make two changes, and had fretted not a little over a delay of half an hour at one junction point.
"There's old Ricks!" cried Sam, motioning to the station master, who was looking after some baggage. "Remember the fun we had with him on our last trip here, Tom?"
"Indeed, yes," was the reply, and the fun-loving Rover grinned a little.
"No time for fun now," put in Dick, quickly. "We want to get home just as soon as possible."
From one of the telegraph offices along the line the boys had sent word ahead, and at the station they found Jack Ness, the hired man, who had brought the family touring car.
"Glad to see you back," said the hired man, touching his cap.
"Any news, Jack?" asked the three, in one voice.
"You mean from your father?"
"Yes."
"No," and Jack Ness shook his head slowly "Not a line for several days. Your aunt an' uncle are worried 'most to death."
The boys leaped into the touring car, Dick taking the wheel and Sam getting in beside him. Tom and the hired man occupied the tonneau, with the baggage. Away they went, in a cloud of dust, over the frail bridge that spanned the river and through the village of Dexter's Corners. Then they struck the country road leading to Valley Brook farm, their home. Dick increased the speed to thirty miles an hour—all the car would stand on such a highway.
"Say, we'll have an accident!" cried Jack Ness, in alarm. "It ain't safe to run so fast, nohow!"
"Sit still, Jack; Dick knows what he is doing," commanded Tom. "We want to get home just as soon as we can."
"Well, I don't blame ye fer wantin' to git home,—but I don't want to git kilt!" murmured the man of all work.
Farm after farm was passed and also a patch of timber land. Then they swept around a turn and came in sight of Valley Brook, with its broad fields and its gurgling brook flowing down to Swift River.
"There's Aleck!" shouted Sam, pointing to a colored man who was standing at the entrance to a lane. He waved his hand and Alexander Pop, one of the servants, and a man who had made many trips with the Rovers, took off his hat and waved in return.
As he swung up to the broad piazza of the house, Dick honked the automobile horn. At once the door flew open and Mrs. Rover ran out, followed by her husband.
"Oh, boys! I am so glad to see you!" cried Mrs. Rover.
"How are you, Aunt Martha!" returned Sam, leaping out and kissing her, an example speedily followed by his brothers.
"Very glad you came," said Randolph Rover, a tall, thin, and studious-looking man, wearing big spectacles. He shook hands all around. "Come right into the house."
"You haven't any word from dad?" questioned Sam.
"Nothing, boys—and I do not know what to make of it."
"It is a fearful state of affairs," burst out Mrs. Rover, and tears stood in her motherly eyes. "We cannot imagine what has happened to your father."
"I sent another telegram to that hotel," said Dick. "I asked the manager to send his reply here."
It was a rather sad home-coming, and even Tom felt much depressed in spirits. All filed into the house and to the sitting-room, leaving Jack Ness and Aleck Pop to look after the automobile and the baggage.
"We ought to get a message from New York soon," remarked Dick, after his uncle had related the little he had to tell about how Anderson Rover had gone away on the trip to the metropolis. Evidently Randolph Rover knew little about the business that had taken his brother to the city. He was no business man himself—being wrapped up in what he called scientific farming—and probably the boys' father had not thought it worth while to take him into his confidence.
Dinner was on the table, and the boys went to the dining-room to eat. But nobody had any appetite, and the fine repast prepared by the cook under Mrs. Rover's directions, was much of a failure. Once the telephone rang and the boys rushed to it. But the call was only a local one, of little consequence.
"I think the best thing I can do will be to go over dad's private papers," said Dick, presently. "They may give me a clew of where to look for him in New York."
"That's the talk!" cried Tom. "Come on, let's get busy." He hated to sit still at any time, and just at present inactivity was doubly irksome.
During the past year a room had been added to the house and this was used as a library and sort of office combined, being provided with a substantial safe and two roller-top desks. One of the desks was used exclusively by Anderson Rover for his private letters and papers. When sick the man had given Dick the extra key to the desk, telling him to keep it. The father trusted his three sons implicitly, only keeping to himself such business affairs as he thought would not interest them.
The boys sat down and, led by Dick, began a careful inspection of the many letters and documents which the roller-top desk contained. A large number of the papers and letters they knew had no bearing on the affair now in hand. But presently Dick took up some letters of recent date and scanned them with interest.
"I guess this is what we are after!" he cried.
"I was afraid it might be that."
"What is it?" asked his brothers.
"That old irrigation scheme—the one run by Pelter, Japson & Company, of Wall Street, New York."
"Why, I thought dad had dropped that," said Sam, in surprise.
"He tried to. But they held him to some agreement—I don't know exactly what. They wanted to get more money out of him—if they could."
"And you think he went to New York on that account, Dick?" asked Tom.
"It looks so to me."
"But that doesn't account for his disappearance."
"Perhaps it does."
"What do you mean?"
"Those fellows may be holding him a prisoner, or they may even have put him out of the way altogether—although I doubt if they are as bad as all that."
"Some men would do anything for money," grumbled Sam. "But what good would it do to hold him a prisoner?"
"They may want to force him to sign some papers, or give up some papers he is holding, Sam. One thing is certain, they were very anxious to see him—these letters show that."
"Hadn't we better telegraph to them and see what they have to say?" suggested Tom.
"Perhaps, Tom—but, somehow, I don't think that would be a wise move to make. Father did not trust them. He said they were sharpers. If we sent them any word it might put them more on guard than they would otherwise be. I think the best thing to do is to go to New York and interview them personally—if we don't get word from dad before we leave."
"I think——" commenced Tom, and just then the telephone bell rang and all rushed to it. Dick took up the receiver.