Walter and Paul stood beside Jack, looking at the queer mark of the
automobile tire in the dust.
"It is just as Cora described it," said Walter.
"I remember, too," added Paul. "She spoke about it at the time, saying
the man at the garage had made a poor job when he vulcanized on that
patch. He didn't know his business, that's a fact. But still there might
be other cars with that same sort of tire, Jack."
"Of course, but this is worth taking a chance on. What do you fellows
say?"
"Tell us first what you want to do," suggested Walter.
"Follow this tire mark until we either see the car, or lose trace of
it."
"What about telephoning to Mr. Haight about permission to rip down that
cement wall?"
"We can do that, too," answered Jack to Paul. "This auto seems to be
headed for town, and that's where we're going. If we see the men who
have stolen Cora's car, we'll get it back for her."
"If the men let you," added Walter, significantly.
"Oh, we'll get help if we have to," said Jack. "Come on."
For some distance it was comparatively easy to follow the automobile
track by means of the prominent impression left by the patch on the
tire.
"But if you can tell whether it's going to town or coming from there, it
is more than I can," asserted Paul, "and I know something about autos."
"Of course, I'm not sure of that part of it," Jack admitted. "But we
have to go to town anyhow, and it won't be any harm to go by this road,
on the chance of seeing Cora's car; will it?"
"No," agreed Walter. "Perhaps we can kill two birds with one stone that
way, as well as any other."
But the hopes of the boys were doomed to disappointment, at least in
respect to getting further trace of Cora's car, provided the tire marks
were made by hers. At least it was a temporary setback. For after about
half a mile there came a patch of hard oily road, in which the
impression of the big Z was lost. And when next a dusty stretch was
encountered, there were so many marks of automobile tires that it was
impossible to distinguish any particular one.
"Baffled!" exclaimed Walter, semi-dramatically, after a back-aching
inspection of the road.
"Only for a time," added Jack, cheerfully. "After we telephone we'll
take the trail of the marks, going in the other direction. That will be
back toward the cave, and I wouldn't be surprised if there were some
connection between the cave, the passage under the bungalow and the men
in Cora's car."
"Some cute little detective you're getting to be," laughed Paul. "Well,
it may be that you're right. Go on."
A little later the boys reached the village, and, after executing some
commissions for the girls, including the purchase for Bess of a box of
chocolates, they found a long distance telephone in a drug store where
there was a booth to insure privacy.
It was decided that Walter should explain matters over the wire to Mr.
Haight, the owner of the bungalow, and ask permission of him to batter
down the stone wall that brought the secret passage to such an abrupt
end.
"And while you're about it, Wally," suggested Jack, "ask him what the
whole mysterious business means, what makes those noises, and why
spirits, or humans, should have the nerve to sneak into the girls' rooms
and upset the furniture."
"I'd need a night letter to get all that information," Walter retorted.
"You forget this is long distance telephone rates I'll have to pay."
"We'll whack up on it," suggested Paul. "Go ahead, Walter, get all the
information you can."
Walter's stay in the telephone booth was a lengthy one. His chums only
caught disconnected murmurs of his talk, but they had glimpses of his
face through the glass door and there was sufficient astonishment and
satisfaction depicted to whet their curiosity to the utmost.
"Whew!" Walter exclaimed as he came out. "It was some hot in there!"
"Never mind about that!" exclaimed Jack. "Can we tear down that wall?"
"Sure!" gasped Walter. "Mr. Haight was as surprised as we were to hear
about it. He's coming up to have a look."
"Do we have to wait until then?" asked Jack, in disappointed tones.
"Not at all. He said to go right ahead."
"And doesn't he know anything about the queer goings on, or who upsets
the furniture?" came from Paul.
"Not in the least. It's all news to him, though he says Mr. Floyd did
write a letter telling about some strange happenings. Mr. Haight didn't
pay much attention--said he couldn't make head or tail of the letter. He
intended to look into the matter when he had a chance, but now he
authorizes us to do it for him."
"And couldn't he give even a hint as to why the sliding door was made in
the floor, and who cut the passage?" asked Jack.
"No, though he said something which may prove to be a clew. He said he
bought the bungalow from a man who used to be a well-known actor. This
actor gave up the stage, and it was rumored that he was slightly
demented before he died. Now it occurs to me that this theatrical chap
may have had this sliding door made to gratify his whim for sudden and
unexplained comings and goings. Perhaps to frighten his servants. Any
sort of theory might explain it. That's only a guess, but it's as good
as any."
"It sounds reasonable," admitted Jack. "At least the actor may have had
the secret door built, but the passage, which leads to goodness knows
where, looks more like the work of smugglers or a band of outlaws."
"Perhaps it may turn out to be that before we've finished," said Walter.
"Anyhow, we have permission to go ahead, and the sooner we get at it,
and have that wall down, the sooner we'll know where we're at."
They hastened out of town, eager to begin work on the wall, and were
soon on the same highway where they had seen the automobile marks.
"And this time we'll follow them in the other direction," said Jack. "We
might as well spend a little time on this end of the game now as later,
and it may be that this will fit in with the rest of the mystery."
"Good idea," commented Walter.
As the boys retraced their steps they took note of the fact that the
mark of the big Z in the dust became plainer.
"We were wrong before," decided Jack. "We were going in the direction
from which the auto had come. Now we're following it."
"To its lair, I hope," said Paul. "I'm anxious to get back to the
bungalow and have a go at that wall."
"Same here," commented Walter.
The boys were walking along, their eyes on the ground so as not to lose
sight of the marks, when Jack, raising his head, uttered a cry that
attracted the attention of his companions.
"Look!" he cried, pointing down the road. "There's Cora's car now, and
two men are in it!"
There was no doubt about it. Cora's car was of a peculiar purple tint
with maroon trimmings. It had been made especially for her, and that it
was her machine was evident at a glance, especially to Paul who was in
the automobile business.
"Come on!" cried Jack. "We've got 'em!"
But had they? The automobile had turned out of a field, against a side
hill of which was built a wooden building, like a farmer's spring-house.
The men seemed to have been using it as a garage, and Cora's automobile,
occupied by two strangers, was rapidly speeding down the road.
At Jack's cry one of the men looked around, and then the machine was
speeded up, raising a cloud of dust.
"No chance of catching them!" cried Paul. "We've got to get another
machine somewhere."
"We can't!" exclaimed Jack. "We'll have to follow until we see where
they go. We mustn't lose sight of 'em now."
It seemed a hopeless chase, and it was, practically. Jack distanced his
companions, who called to him to come back so they could examine the
building in the lot.
"Maybe we'll find a clew there," cried Walter.
And finally even Jack gave up. Human legs, even those of an ambitious
youth, are no match for an automobile. But as Jack slackened his pace he
saw something which caused him to run forward again. For a bundle had
been dropped from Cora's car, and the men did not stop to pick it up.
"Maybe that will prove the best clew yet," thought Jack, as he hastened
forward to pick it up.