ANOTHER MYSTERY
This, indeed, was another startling discovery, and one which brought a
flood of thoughts to Bob Somers' brain.
He waited until satisfied that there was no danger of discovery, then
slipped down from his perch and started rapidly away.
"A lucky thing I climbed that tree," he soliloquized. "A mighty good
morning's work. Now I think I'd better give father's letter to Mr.
Jenkins at once."
Passing a restaurant, he was reminded of the fact that lunch time had
arrived, and accordingly entered.
During the course of the meal, Bob took from his inside pocket a
wallet. It contained a letter which Mr. Somers had sent to his agent.
The inscription on the envelope read:
JOHN C. JENKINS,
243 State Street,
Tocono, Wisconsin.
He remembered the locality, and on leaving the restaurant started off
without hesitation.
Number 243 State Street was an old-fashioned building. The march of
progress had left it dingy and dreary-looking between two of its more
pretentious modern neighbors. In the hallway was a directory of tenants.
"Fifth floor, rooms 501 and 502," read Bob. "It's a rather poor-looking
office building,--and these stairs certainly do creak."
When Bob reached his destination, he found a notice tacked on the door
which informed him that Mr. Jenkins would return at half-past two.
"I'll walk around a bit," he mused, slowly retracing his steps.
Promptly at the time stated, Bob was again standing before the office
door.
Mr. Jenkins, however, was still absent.
Ten minutes passed, then fifteen, and Bob, impatient at the delay, once
more reluctantly descended to the street. Finally a neighboring clock
struck the hour of three.
The notes had scarcely ceased reverberating, when a tall, thin man
rapidly crossed the street, headed directly for the doorway. He
brushed past Bob Somers and mounted the stairs.
Bob gave a gasp of surprise and quickly followed.
As the man turned on the fifth landing, Bob had reached the fourth. He
waited long enough to hear a door opened and shut, then mounted the
remaining steps two at a time.
The notice at the entrance to Mr. Jenkins' office had been removed.
"Another important discovery," mused Bob. "So Mr. John C. Jenkins
happens to be one of the very men I saw with Mr. Wingate a few minutes
ago. This is interesting--sure enough. Guess I don't care to see him
just yet."
Whistling softly, Bob turned away, and headed directly for the
post-office.
In a long letter he told his father of the various discoveries he had
made, advised him not to sell his land, and concluded by urging him to
come to Tocono at once.
At half-past four he reached the Wisconsin House.
The boys had not yet put in an appearance, and another trying wait
followed.
At ten minutes past six, a welcome sound reached his ears. The Ramblers
were ascending the stairs.
"Hello, fellows!" he cried, stepping out upon the landing.
"Hello, Bob, you runaway; any news?" asked Sam.
Even Dave listened eagerly, as Bob related his experience. Wonder and
surprise were depicted on the faces of all when he told about the men
on the steamboat, and the discovery of the agent in Mr. Wingate's
company.
"You have done yourself proud, Bob Somers," declared Dick Travers;
"you'd make a great detective."
"Just to think, those chaps on that little steamboat did all the
mischief," observed Sam; "who could have believed it?"
"One thing we know, now," said Bob; "Nat Wingate isn't quite as mean as
we thought."
"But somebody ought to be in jail."
"Well, just wait until dad gets here. The whole scheme is plain--they
wanted to buy that land before we could get there."
"Maybe there's a gold mine on it," suggested Tom, jestingly.
Bob Somers' thoughts were, naturally, very much occupied with his
discoveries.
"Dad will find out all about it in short order," he said to himself,
"or else I'm much mistaken."
Sightseeing, a trolley ride to an amusement park and an evening spent
at the public library were all enjoyed.
Early on the following morning, Bob received the hoped-for letter.
"Father is coming on this afternoon," he announced joyfully to Sam
Randall; "he expects to get here at 2:37."
"Splendid!" cried Sam. "I only hope he clears up everything."
"Don't for the world let Nat know that dad will be here," cautioned Bob.
"Trust me for that. I'm too anxious to have things settled."
The two boys kept together until nearly train time. Then Sam Randall
took his departure, while Bob entered the railroad station.
He walked up and down the long platform, viewing the sights with
interest. Trucks, loaded with trunks and valises, were being rattled
forth and back, while passengers in groups or walking to and fro
awaited their trains.
At length a whistle sounded in the distance, a puff of smoke rose above
the buildings, then the train rounded a curve and within a few minutes
a roar and the hiss of escaping steam filled the air.
Suddenly Bob darted forward. He had caught sight of a stout,
prosperous-looking gentleman, who, bag in hand, had alighted.
"Hello, dad!" he cried, seizing his hand.
"Hello, Bob! Glad to see you safe and sound."
"How is mother?"
"Very well, but, naturally, anxious about you. You seem to have had a
most extraordinary trip."
"Yes, indeed--I should say so."
"You must tell me all about it--from the very beginning," said Mr.
Somers.
He waved his arm toward a rickety-looking conveyance.
"Now, Bob," said his father, settling himself back in his seat, "let
us go over the various points together. Mr. Jenkins may have been
playing a pretty deep game."
"I'm almost sure he has."
"So you told me. You have done remarkably well in finding out so much."
As the cab rolled along, the two discussed the whole affair at length.
"Mr. Jenkins saw me at Kingswood, and I was on the point of accepting
his terms, when your letter arrived," declared Mr. Somers; "everything
seemed square and aboveboard."
"And you weren't going to wait until we got there?" asked Bob,
reproachfully.
Mr. Somers smiled.
"Your trip had been so much delayed that I began to feel it wasn't
worth while. Then, your mother urged me to accept, and I could see no
reason for holding out any longer, as the terms were satisfactory."
"What is your plan, father?" asked Bob.
"I shall see Mr. Jenkins to-day--beard the lion in his den, as it
were," replied Mr. Somers. "Ah! here we are."
The cab stopped in front of the Tocono House.
Mr. Somers, in due time, reached the State Street building, and the
occupant of rooms numbers 501 and 502 answered the sharp knock in
person.
As the light from the rear window illuminated his visitor's face, he
started back in astonishment.
"Mr. Somers!" he exclaimed. Then, collecting himself, he added, "Very
glad to see you, sir. Come right in. No doubt you wish to conclude our
land deal."
Leaning over, he drew forth from their respective pigeon-holes several
papers tied with pink strings.
"My client is getting impatient, Mr. Somers," he said; "I shall be glad
to have the matter settled."
"I will not keep you in suspense, Mr. Jenkins. I have reconsidered the
matter, and decided not to sell."
The agent stared at the speaker in surprise.
"You have decided not to sell?" he echoed, slowly. "What do you
mean--wasn't the deal practically closed in Kingswood?"
"Things have developed since then which caused me to change my mind,"
said Mr. Somers, his keen gray eyes fixed full on the other's face.
"I must confess that I do not understand you, Mr. Somers," said
Jenkins, with a very weak smile.
"Could you spare the time to visit the land with me?"
Mr. Jenkins moved uneasily in his chair.
"Just at present I am too busy," he stammered; "but, Mr. Somers, you
were out there last year, and know all about it. The offer is a good
one--I advise you to accept it."
"I commissioned my son and several friends of his to go out and see
this land," said Mr. Somers, slowly, "and no sooner did his destination
become known than a plot was formed to prevent him from reaching it."
Mr. Jenkins straightened up. His thin hands trembled.
"What do you mean?" he asked, in a hesitating voice.
"That two men on a small steamboat kept track of them," replied Mr.
Somers, calmly; "and when an opportunity presented itself, destroyed a
valuable motor boat."
"Is it possible!" gasped the agent, whose face plainly revealed the
state of his feelings.
"And not only that," went on Mr. Somers, "but when it was found that
they had the courage to continue, they were marooned on an island.
Afterward, at Clair Bay, an effort was made to induce them to return
home. Can you blame me for changing my mind?"
"Most astonishing. But what has it got to do with me?" asked the agent,
with a desperate effort to retain his composure.
"Do you know Mr. Parsons Wingate?" demanded Mr. Somers, abruptly.
"Mr. Parsons Wingate?--er--slightly," admitted the agent, in a low
voice; "but why--I ask you again--"
"Because there are several matters which must be cleared up. On Chelten
Road there is a house with green shutters. You, Mr. Wingate, and the
two men who destroyed my son's motor boat have been meeting there."
Pale and agitated, Mr. Jenkins sprang to his feet. His lips quivered.
He stood with trembling hand resting upon the arm of the chair.
"What is all this rubbish?" he gasped. "I--I won't be insulted! Who
dares to accuse me?"
"Facts, sir! The facts accuse you," said Mr. Somers, who now felt
assured of the other's guilt. "The police are ready to make arrests."
"The police--you say?" gasped the agent.
"I will tell you that only this morning, on my way to Tocono, I stopped
at Clair Bay and saw the authorities. They only await my word!"
Utterly overwhelmed, Mr. Jenkins sank back in his chair.
After being assured that he would not be prosecuted, he gave Mr. Somers
the following facts:
Copper ore had been discovered by Mr. Jenkins on a strip of land
adjoining that of Mr. Somers. As this was not generally known, Mr.
Wingate and he were able to purchase it for a comparatively small sum.
Aided by the men who destroyed the motor boat, several frame buildings
were erected, borings made and everything put into shape to begin
active work.
All this was due to Mr. Jenkins' knowledge of copper mining. He had
succeeded, by a practical demonstration of its value, in interesting
Mr. Wingate, with whom he was acquainted.
Unfortunately for their plans, it developed that the vein extended
directly into Mr. Somers' property, and that unless this was also
purchased they would be able to make little or nothing by the find.
Negotiations were at once started, and, about this time, in spite of
much precaution, it became noised about that an important discovery had
been made. Then, right on top of this, they were dismayed to hear of
the Rambler Club's prospective visit.
Mr. Jenkins therefore knew that unless the deal was carried through
at once Mr. Somers would learn the real facts of the case and put his
price up to a prohibitive figure. It was therefore decided to prevent
Bob and his companions from reaching the land, at all hazards.
Mr. Wingate hired the "Nimrod" and told Nat that he would make him a
present of the motor boat if he should succeed in delaying the Ramblers
for a certain length of time.
At first it was thought there would be no difficulty, but Mr. Somers'
failure to decide promptly upset all their calculations, and caused
them to realize that bolder steps would be necessary.
An old steamboat was hired, and the two men detailed to retard the
movements of Bob and his companions.
The agent admitted that Mr. Wingate had been entirely opposed to
desperate measures, and that he and Nat were not acquainted with all
that was done.
The destruction of the "Rambler" was largely due to the advice of one
of the two men, who argued that Mr. Somers would never allow the boys
to keep on after such a disaster. Mr. Jenkins said it was his intention
to pay for the boat later.
When the boys kept on Mr. Wingate devised the "Crusoe" island scheme.
Nat, who was always ready for mischief, viewed this mainly in the light
of a practical joke. He carried through his part of it successfully,
the two men following at a safe distance.
The "Nimrod" was secured and returned to its owners.
While the boys were marooned on the island, Mr. Jenkins went to
Kingswood, and returned to Tocono confident that success would crown
his efforts.
When the boys turned up at Clair Bay, Mr. Wingate played his last
card, and upon receipt of Nat's telegram, hurried on to Tocono. He
was greatly incensed at his nephew's insubordination, but foresaw
that advantage might be taken of it. Nat was summoned to Mr. Jenkins'
residence on Chelten Road, and instructed to keep track of the boys.
Letters and telegrams were dispatched to Mr. Somers, and the
conspirators seemed to be on the point of winning at the very last
moment.
But Bob Somers' strategy had upset all their plans.