THE WRECK AGAIN
“Paul, are you hurt? I’m coming! Father, turn on the light! Someone
tried to get in Paul’s room!”
Thus Frank cried as he made his way through the darkness to the hall,
and fairly ran down the stairs. He knew every foot of the way.
“What’s the matter?” yelled Andy.
“Oh, dear! Is it burglars?” screamed Mrs. Racer.
“Careful, boys!” shouted Mr. Racer, as he stepped out into the hall from
his room, nearest to which the electric switch was, and flashed on the
incandescents. “Don’t run into danger.”
Andy was now following his brother, having caught up a heavy fishing
rod, bound together, as a substitute for a club.
“Paul, are you hurt?” cried Frank again, and by this time he was at the
room door of the lad who had been so alarmed by the midnight visitor.
“No, I—I’m all right,” was the panting answer, and Paul met Frank at the
portal, throwing the gleam of the hand electric all about. Frank turned
on the regular light in Paul’s room, and looked around. The wire
mosquito screen was raised, showing how the intruder had gained
entrance. By this time Andy and Mr. Racer had joined Frank and Paul, and
Mrs. Racer had been assured that whoever had entered was now outside the
house.
“But what was it? Who was it?” demanded Mr. Racer.
“I—I—” began Paul, who was trembling from fright.
“I know who it was, I saw him!” interrupted Frank. “It was the same man
we met on the beach—the mysterious man who knows something about Paul
but who won’t tell! What did he do to you, Paul?”
“Nothing. That is, as far as I know. I was sleeping soundly when I heard
a noise in my room, and I could just see someone moving about around the
bureau, opening drawers. At first I thought it was one of you boys, or
Mr. Racer, and then I knew you wouldn’t come in without making a light.
“I reached under my pillow where I kept the electric lamp, and flashed
it. As I did so the man came toward my bed. Then I saw who he was and I
yelled. I thought he was going to take me away.”
“Take you away?” questioned Frank. “Do you know him—have you seen him
before?”
“Yes!” suddenly exclaimed Paul. “I—I know him! His name is—”
“That’s what we want to know—who is he?” interrupted Andy eagerly.
“He is—his name is—Oh, why can’t I remember?” cried poor Paul, passing
his hand over his forehead in despair. “I thought it was coming to me,
but it’s faded away again! Oh, why can’t I recall who he is? Then I know
the mystery would be solved. But I can’t—it’s all—so—so hazy. Only I
know that this man had something to do with me—and, yes, I’m beginning
to recall it now—my father also. He wanted to harm me—or was it my
father? I can’t—”
“Now look here,” broke in Mr. Racer kindly, “this won’t do, you know.
You must calm yourself, Paul. I can’t let you excite him, boys. Here is
some quieting medicine Dr. Martin left, Paul. Take that and in half an
hour you will be calmer. Then you can tell us all you recollect. Perhaps
by that time your memory will be stronger. Meanwhile, if you boys want
to do something why don’t you get some clothes on, and go with Jake the
gardener to see if you can get any trace of that scoundrel? I’ll call up
the police.”
“Good!” cried Frank. “That’s what we’ll do. Come on, Andy.”
The two boys were soon scouring the garden with lantern, accompanied by
Jake, the man of all work. But they had little hope of coming upon the
intruder. They found the place where he had burst through the currant
bushes after leaping from Paul’s window, and there were his footprints
in the soft earth; but that was all.
“He’s far enough off by this time,” declared Andy. “Let’s go in and see
if Paul can tell us anything.”
They found their friend much quieter. Mr. and Mrs. Racer had dressed,
and Paul had on his clothes. They were sitting in the dining room, Mr.
Racer drinking some hot coffee Mary had made.
“We’ll have a little midnight supper,” said the boys’ mother with a
faint laugh. “I’m sure I won’t get to sleep again to-night.”
“Did you see anything of him?” asked their father.
Frank shook his head.
“What about Paul?” he asked. “Can he remember anything?”
“I wish I could,” said the unfortunate youth, with a sigh. “But it’s all
so hazy. As soon as I saw that man’s face in the light I knew I had met
him before, and that he was an enemy of mine. But I can’t grasp any
details. I flashed the light on him as he was getting out of the
window.”
“That’s how I happened to see him,” said Frank, in explanation, “and how
I knew him to be the mysterious man.”
“Did he touch you?” asked Andy.
“No,” answered Paul, “though I don’t know what he might have done if I
hadn’t awakened as I did.”
“Did he take anything of yours from the room?” asked Mr. Racer.
“I haven’t anything of my own, except the clothes I wore when the boys
rescued me, so he couldn’t get anything.”
“But you said he was at the bureau,” went on Frank.
“Nothing is missing from there,” said Mrs. Racer quickly.
“Perhaps he thought Paul had some important papers,” suggested Andy.
“I’m sure I haven’t,” and once more the unfortunate youth passed his
hand across his forehead. “I wish I could recall when it was, and under
what circumstances, I met that man before. But I can’t. Only I’m sure of
one thing—he is an enemy of mine—and of my father.”
“Can you recall anything of your father—or mother?” asked Mrs. Racer
softly.
“No,” answered Paul with a shake of his head; and tears filled his eyes.
“Well, I know one thing!” exclaimed Frank decidedly. “I’m going to have
another try at finding that man. I’m sure he’s in this vicinity now.
He’s hanging around here for some reason, and we have a double motive in
locating him. I believe he set our boat on fire,” and for the first time
he told his parents of his suspicions.
“Be careful if you do meet him,” cautioned Mr. Racer. “He is evidently a
dangerous character. Now to see what the police can do, and then we’ll
go back to bed.”
The police could do very little, as might be expected, though they
promised to keep a lookout for the fellow. They made an utterly useless
inspection of the house and grounds, and left. Then the family and Paul
went to bed to get what little sleep they could.
Frank and Andy discussed the matter long and earnestly the next day.
Paul was not so well, on account of the fright, and so it was not
thought wise to have him accompany them on a sailing trip.
“I’m not so sure it will do any good to go off in our boat,” declared
Andy. “That fellow is just as likely to be on land as at sea.”
“I think he’s more likely to be at sea,” declared Frank. “He wants to
get that damaged motor boat.”
“Well, let’s try looking for him ashore a while, and if that doesn’t
amount to anything, I’ll go sailing with you,” suggested the younger
brother.
To this Frank agreed; and for several days he and his brother went from
one seacoast settlement to another, making inquiries. Nothing, however,
came from them. They spent much time riding back and forth on the
electric car line, hoping they might unexpectedly meet the mysterious
man there, but he kept out of their way as if he knew they were on his
trail.
“Well, now for a sailing cruise!” exclaimed Frank, one morning, and Andy
announced that his theory had been tried and found wanting. The brothers
wanted to take Paul, but he was not well enough, so, having taken along
a supply of provisions, if they should be becalmed and kept out all
night, as was sometimes the case, they set sail, beating up along the
coast.
There was a fair wind, that freshened at noon, but which died out toward
evening, and finally there settled over the ocean a dead calm.
“It’s us out for all night, unless you can whistle up a wind,” said
Frank grimly.
“We’ll both try,” proposed Andy, and they whistled all the tunes they
knew, but without avail.
Then, having lighted their lamps, and cooked a supper on the oil stove
in the small galley, they prepared to spend the night at sea. They had
often done it before, for their craft was a staunch one, and as they had
said at home that they might be detained, they knew their folks would
not worry.
They stood watch and watch, of several hours at a stretch, and Frank was
on duty when the gray and misty night began to be dispelled by the rosy
sun rising from the water. As he glanced across the slowly-heaving
billows, something in the very path of Old Sol’s smiling beams caught
his eye.
It was a sailboat, somewhat larger than the _Gull_, but it was not the
sight of the craft itself that attracted Frank’s attention. It was
something trailing behind.
“Andy! Andy, come up here!” called the elder Racer lad.
“What’s the matter?” demanded his brother, coming from his berth in the
tiny cabin, and rubbing his sleepy eyes. “See another whale?”
“No, but look at that sailboat? Isn’t it dragging something?”
“It sure is!”
“What do you make it out to be?”
“It looks like—why it’s a motor boat, and it looks as if it had seen
hard usage.”
“That’s what I thought, and I’ll miss my guess if that isn’t the very
boat that blew up when Paul Gale was in it.”
“I believe you’re right. Wait a minute.” Andy disappeared, to return a
moment later with a pair of powerful glasses. He focused the binoculars
on the object trailing behind the sailing craft. Then he uttered a cry:
“It’s the damaged motor boat! We’re on the track of it again! Let’s
chase after it and see who has it!”