STUMPED!
It was shortly after lunch time and Paul was doing an errand for his
father. Walking down Main Street, he stopped at a stationery store to
look at the window display. His attention was attracted by someone
coming out of the store. He caught his breath. The man was tall, gaunt,
with ill fitting clothes hanging like sacks on him. “Mr. Grey!” he
thought to himself.
Not hesitating, Paul followed. He wanted to get a good look at
the man’s face, but how was he going to do that? He thought fast.
Increasing his pace, he walked past the man. At the corner, he
pretended that he was lost and was looking for something. He waited for
Mr. Grey to come up. Approaching the man, he said, “Excuse me, sir. But
can you tell me where McDougal Street is? You see, I am a stranger in
this town.”
Paul looked up at the great height towering over him. He was very much
excited and kept shifting his weight from one foot to the other. Mr.
Grey answered softly, “I’m sorry, son, but I really don’t know.”
Paul pretended that he was disappointed. The man’s sunken cheeks, long
nose and deep sockets, were imprinted in his mind. But it was Mr.
Grey’s eyes that bore into him. Those eyes! he thought to himself, he
would never forget them. They were dark, brilliant, wild. He became
conscious that he was staring very awkwardly at the man and that Mr.
Grey was waiting for him to say something. He said, “You see—er—I am
looking for Grey’s Pharmacy.”
The man repeated to himself, “Grey’s Pharmacy! I am sorry, but I don’t
think I know where it is.”
On the spur of the moment, Paul said, “And then I have to go down also
to John and Main Streets. Can you tell me where that is?”
Paul thought that the man would show some sign of interest at the
mention of the words Grey and John Street. But he was disappointed.
Mr. Grey was quite calm and not at all disturbed by those words. He
answered softly, “Yes, I can tell you where John Street is. You walk
straight down Main Street; you can’t miss it. It is quite a walk
though; almost a mile.” He hesitated for a second and looked down the
street. “There is the car coming,” he continued. “You can take it and
get off at John Street.”
“Thank you,” murmured Paul and stepped aside to let the man pass on.
He watched Mr. Grey, walk away. Remembering that he still had the
errand to do for his father, he was undecided whether to follow or not.
Shaking his head, he turned and walked off.
Completing the errand for his father, he ran off to the stationery
store. He entered. A young man behind the counter asked, “What can I do
for you?”
Paul showed him a blank, white card. “Have you got any cards like
that?” he asked.
The young man behind the counter took the card, fingered it and
answered, “Yes, we have them. How many do you want?”
“I need ten,” said Paul.
The young man stopped as he was pulling out a box from one of the
shelves, and replied, “I’m sorry. The cards are twenty-five cents a
hundred and we don’t sell less than a package of a hundred.”
“Never mind, then,” announced Paul and walked out of the store.
Paul felt cheerful; he seethed with excitement. Now he was getting
somewhere, he thought. Upon reflection he realized that he was nowhere
nearer to a solution of the mystery than he was before. Yet he could
not dispel his feeling of excitement.
He felt someone touch him on the arm and Paul turned around. “Hello,
Captain Bob,” he called.
“Hello, yourself, my boy,” was the reply. “What are you doing just now?”
“Nothing much. I am at your disposal, if you want me to do something
for you,” he offered.
“No, I don’t want you to do anything for me,” and the captain shook his
head. “I merely want to have a few words with you.”
“That’s all right with me. What is it you want?”
“Let’s first move away from the main thoroughfare,” remarked Captain
Bob, smiling. “We may get knocked over by all these people rushing past
us.”
They walked away a short distance into Cherry Street. Paul was curious
to know what the captain had to say to him. He was on his guard,
though. The old man was clever and shrewd and if he thought he was
going to obtain information from him, he was mistaken. Paul steeled
himself and asked, “Is this all right? I guess we can talk here without
being disturbed.”
Captain Bob nodded. “Yes, I think so, too,” he answered. “What I want
to ask you, my boy, is how are you getting along with solving that
mystery of yours?”
Paul gasped. He didn’t think the man would put it up to him so bluntly.
“What mystery?” he asked, trying to make his voice sound as though he
were surprised at the question.
“Now, now,” commented the old man. “Never mind beating around the bush.
Let’s be honest with each other. I suppose you know that I am also
interested in finding the culprit who is responsible for starting that
fire?”
“That is news to me,” replied Paul. “I didn’t think you had any
suspicions about the cause of the fire.”
“Well, you know I did. And what’s more, I also know that you and your
friends are doing a lot of detective work. I just want to know how you
are getting along and whether you have come upon any substantial clues.”
Paul smiled, feeling slightly guilty. “As a matter of fact,” he
answered, “we have not been doing much lately at all. And ...” he
paused to suspend the effect of the remark. “And we don’t know any more
now than we did when we spoke to you about it.”
“Tsk, tsk.” Captain Bob appeared angry. “I guess we will just have to
wait and see what happens.”
“If there is anything my friends and I can do,” began Paul.
The captain cut him short. “Never mind,” he said, “never mind. Goodbye.”
Captain Bob walked off. Paul smiled to himself and went home. All
afternoon he brooded over his problem. The mystery continued to be a
mystery to him. He wondered what Captain Bob was up to, whether he was
still following him and his friends and also whether the old man was
conducting an investigation of his own. His father came up the steps of
the porch. “What are you brooding about, son?” he asked.
“Oh, nothing much,” was the answer. “Just thinking.”
Dr. Morrison looked askance at his son. “Well,” he commented, “let’s
hope you are really thinking and not pretending you are thinking.”
“W-w-what was that you said?” gasped Paul.
But Dr. Morrison laughed softly and walked into the house. Paul got out
of his seat and walked off. Jack was busy tinkering with his father’s
car. He looked up and called out, “Hello, Paul. Anything new?”
Paul sat down on the box of tools. “A little,” he answered nonchalantly.
Jack wiped his greasy hands. “What do you mean.”
“I saw Mr. Grey.” Jack opened his eyes wide and stared at his friend.
“And I spoke to him, too,” he added.
Jack sat down on the running board. “Well, go on, tell me. What
happened?” he asked anxiously.
Paul related the events. Jack listened attentively. Finally he
muttered, “So! Does all that help any?”
Paul shrugged his shoulders. “Very little. But at least I now have a
good idea of the sort of person he is.” A pause. “Captain Bob spoke to
me,” he announced.
“What does he want? How did you see him?”
“He stopped me in the street. He wants to know what we are doing and
how we are getting along.”
“A shrewd, clever fellow, that Captain Bob,” was Jack’s appraisal.
“He is aware that we know something which we won’t tell him and he is
trying to get it out of us.”
“I was wondering,” remarked Paul, “whether it wouldn’t be better to
tell him and see what happens.”
“What good will that do?”
“None that I can see, but ...”
“But what?”
“Nothing. Let’s forget that angle of it and think what to do?”
“I know what I am going to do,” announced Jack.
“What?”
“The same as I did last night. I am going to follow Mr. Grey.” He eyed
his companion. “And you?” he asked.
“I haven’t decided yet. Guess I’ll go home now.”