CHAPTER XIX
Clippings
Their friend, the fisherman, was greatly interested in the Hardy boys' adventure with Carl Schaum and wanted to know all the details of the affair. Frank and Joe told him why they had captured Schaum, and also told him of the Shore Road automobile thefts, although they modestly omitted any mention of their own part in bringing the car thieves to justice.
When they arrived back at the cottage the fisherman was anxious that they go in and continue the chat, but the Hardy boys wanted to return to the caves.
"Some other time," they promised.
"Well," said the fisherman reluctantly, "if you won't come in, I suppose you won't; but you must come back and see me before you leave these parts. You're smart lads, cotchin' that jailbird, and I'm sure he's the fellow that's been performin' all the monkeyshines down around Honeycomb Caves."
Frank and Joe said nothing. It occurred to them that possibly the fisher folk did not know of Captain Royal's presence in the vicinity and they preferred to keep the secret to themselves.
"Yes," said the man, wagging his head, "I guess he was the chap, all right, even if you don't seem to think so."
"He was a thief, at any rate," said Joe.
"He stole your grub, you was sayin'. If you need more, you're welcome to anything I've got here. It ain't much, but you're more'n welcome," said their hospitable friend.
The boys thanked him, but assured him that Carl Schaum had been forced to divulge the hiding place of the provisions. With great glee they told how they had frightened him into telling.
"We're all set for a few days' stay now," said Frank. "I guess we won't be bothered any more."
The boys parted from the fisherman and ascended the path up the hillside again. Up over the rocks, along the cliff edge until they came to the ravine, down the steep slope, and after an arduous hour they were again at their cave.
Chet and Biff were nowhere to be seen, so the Hardy boys assumed that they were still fishing.
"When we tell them all the adventures we've had, they'll be as mad as hops," laughed Frank.
"We've sure covered a lot of territory since they last saw us."
"And the day isn't over yet. We still have Captain Royal to attend to."
It was still damp and foggy as they went on down the beach, and although it was midday the mist hung so heavily over the sea that they could see only a short distance ahead. It was almost as dark as at dusk.
"I believe the fog is growing worse," remarked Frank.
"It certainly seems worse since we've got down on the shore again."
"I hope Chet and Biff don't get lost."
"Not much danger of getting lost around here. It's pretty hard to get far from the ocean, and once you're on the beach you just have to keep walking until you find the caves."
The boys came to the place where they had spied Carl Schaum in his drunken slumber.
"Let's see if he was telling us the truth about that cave of his," Joe suggested. "We might as well make sure that our provisions are safe."
"There's a cave here, all right. Look, I can see it over by those big boulders."
"So there is. Queer that we didn't notice it before. The rocks hide it from view unless you stand right in front of it."
"Trust Carl to pick a good hiding place. If he hadn't made the mistake of getting drunk and wandering beyond his own front door, he might be a free man yet."
"It isn't the first time that liquor has landed a man in jail."
The boys approached the entrance of the cave. It was, as Joe had pointed out, almost invisible from the beach, unless one happened to look up when standing directly in front of the opening, because a number of huge boulders obscured it.
Inside, they found unmistakable evidences of human habitation.
"There are our provisions!" exclaimed Frank.
He pointed to a box that stood beside a few blankets in a corner of the little cave. It was filled with the food that Schaum had stolen from them. Very little of it had been touched; the robber had been given no time to dispose of his loot.
"Well, I never expected to seethatagain," said Joe.
"I guess it's safe enough where it is. We can pick it up on our way back from Captain Royal's."
"How about these blankets? Schaum said we could have them."
Frank picked up one of the blankets. It was heavy and of excellent quality.
"I'll say he was mighty generous, letting us have good blankets like these," he declared. "They seem brand new, too."
"If they are, there must be a catch in it somewhere."
"There is. Look!"
Frank held out the blanket. Stamped into the fabric was the name, "Hotel Bayport." The reason for Schaum's sudden burst of generosity was now clear.
"No wonder he didn't want to take them with him. He knew that if the police laid eyes on those blankets he'd have another charge laid against him. He must have stolen them from the hotel after he escaped from jail."
"I think he would take anything that wasn't nailed down," said Joe. "Well, we can take the blankets back with us and return them to the hotel, at any rate."
"Sure. We'll leave 'em here with the grub until we're ready to go back to our own cave."
The boys found nothing else worthy of attention in Carl Schaum's crude abode except a revolver hidden beneath a rock near the blankets. They appropriated this, to turn over to the police when they should return to Bayport.
They departed, well satisfied with their visit.
"Chet will give three cheers when he sees the grub again. I don't think he was very cheerful about the thought of going on short rations until we got new supplies," said Frank.
"I wasn't very cheerful about it myself," Joe admitted. "It makes me sore when I think of Schaum stealing all that stuff. Why, one man couldn't eat it all in a month."
"Perhaps he intended to stay a month, or even longer, if he could get away with it."
"Well, he might have left us more than he did. I'm glad I was able to douse some water in his face."
The Hardy boys were soon in sight of Captain Royal's cave. The gloomy opening was barely visible through the lowering mist.
"I wonder if the old gentleman could be at home, Joe."
"No sign of life around, anyway."
"Perhaps he's asleep."
They made their way to the cave-mouth, cautiously. Still there was no sign of the captain.
"Better call him," suggested Frank.
They halted.
"Captain Royal!" shouted Joe.
There was no answer.
"I guess he's not at home."
They called out Captain Royal's name again, but still there was no reply, so they ventured close to the cave-mouth and peeped inside. The place was deserted.
"Shall we go in?" said Joe.
"Sure. We'll take a look around."
They stepped inside the cave. Captain Royal had evidently spent the night there, for his bed was even untidier than it had been the previous day.
"Perhaps he's gone fishing," said Frank.
He was looking about the cave and suddenly his gaze fell on a small cupboard, consisting of a box on a ledge of rock, in which he could see a number of books. He gave a low whistle of surprise.
"The worthy captain has a library," remarked Joe.
"Let's see what his taste in reading matter is like."
Frank went over to the improvised cupboard and picked up one of the books. It fell open and a number of strips of paper fluttered to the floor of the cave.
Frank bent to pick up the papers. He looked at them curiously.
"Newspaper clippings!"
"We might get a clue about him from them," Joe suggested.
In the dim light, Frank scrutinized one of the clippings. It was a despatch from Boston, dated several months previous, and consisted of an address on Egyptian civilization given by a world-famous traveler who had spoken in that city.
"This is uncommonly dull, if you ask me," said Frank at last, putting the clipping aside and picking up another.
"No mention of Todham Todd?"
"Not that I can find."
Joe took one of the other clippings and the boys perused them diligently, seeking some mention of the missing college professor.
All the clippings were devoted to various lectures that had been given by various speakers in different parts of the country within recent months.
"Looks as if he was a lecturer, or had some interest in lectures, at any rate," Joe commented.
Patiently, they examined clipping after clipping, but in none of them did they find any mention of Todham Todd. A further search of the cupboard, however, revealed a veritable mass of papers, and the boys settled down to a thorough study of them.
"He's a queer kind of sailor, that's sure," declared Frank. "I never heard of a sailor who collected clippings about lectures."
The other papers were similar clippings, as well as typewritten documents. When the boys examined these documents in the hope of finding some clue to the former activities of Captain Royal, they found that they were manuscripts of lectures on philosophy and other topics. But still they found no mention of the name of Todham Todd.
"Well, whether he's mentioned in these papers or not, I'm sure that Captain Royal and Todham Todd are the same man," observed Joe. "No sailor would ever carry all this stuff around with him."
"It certainly looks peculiar," his brother agreed. "But there are some more papers yet. We'll look through them all. If he is Todham Todd it's hardly likely that he would carry clippings about other men's lectures and none of his own."
Sheet after sheet, they perused. There were lectures by visiting authors, lectures by big-game hunters, lectures by Arctic explorers, lectures by college professors, photographs of lecturers.
"He is certainly interested in lecturing. Perhaps it's just a coincidence. Crazy men will do crazy things. Perhaps Captain Royal just has a sort of lunatic streak that way," said Joe finally, when it seemed evident that none of the clippings or documents bore any mention of Todham Todd.
"Perhaps you're right. I hate to admit it, though. I was sure we had stumbled on a red-hot clue."
Frank scrutinized the last of the clippings.
"Nothing about him in this one either. I can't figure it out. Beyond the fact that all these stories deal with lectures, there is no connection between them. They're all by different men and all on different subjects."
At that moment Joe espied a small box close by. He opened it, and out tumbled a second mass of clippings.
"Gee, look at this!" he exclaimed.
"More lectures?" questioned his brother, with a sigh.
"Lectures? No!" shouted the younger Hardy boy. "It's a murder case! Look, Frank!"
"You're fooling!"
But even as he spoke Frank Hardy scanned the sheet of newspaper his brother held towards him. There, in glaring headlines, were the words
BARTON BIXBY SHOT DOWNFormer Naval Officer Kills Old FriendWith a ShotgunPolice Follow Clues in Vain
There followed a long account of a killing that had taken place in Richmond three weeks before. A certain Lieutenant Patwick had murdered a former friend who had spoken ill of him at a club. Patwick had then fled to parts unknown. The lieutenant was said to be of a nervous, high-strung temperament.
"Gosh! he may not be Todham Todd after all," remarked Frank. "He may be this Lieutenant Patwick simply trying to conceal his true identity."
"Or else gone crazy because of his crime," added Joe.
There were several other clippings concerning the crime. Evidently the perpetrator had outwitted both police and detectives.
"We'll have to look into this," said Frank soberly.
"You bet. For all we know—"
Joe stopped speaking and thrust all the clippings behind him. A shadow had darkened the mouth of the cave.
"Who is in there?" an angry voice bellowed.