AGAIN THE WHITE CARD
All of the following day the boys wandered about trying their best to
form some definite opinion about the mystery of the white card so that
they might act upon it. But however they discussed the situation, they
could come to no conclusion nor hit upon any new clue. In desperation,
they gave it up for the present and decided to let events take their
course; perhaps something might turn up in several days or weeks that
would give them a clue which they could follow with some chance of
clearing up the situation.
Two days later, something did happen, but it only helped to complicate
things further. Paul was walking along Main Street when he heard an
automobile horn and he turned around to see who it was. A police car
pulled up to the curb and Walters waved to him. “Hey, there, fellow,”
he called. “Come on, get in.”
Paul got into the car. “Hello, Walters,” he said, “anything up?”
“Yes,” said the detective. “I have a very baffling case to solve and
when I saw you walking along, I thought I might ask you to help me.”
They both laughed and the detective added, “Are you bent on going any
place in particular?”
“Well, I was going to the library. But I have plenty of time.”
“That’s fine. Then you can drive along with me for a while. I hate to
drive all by myself with no one to talk to.”
“I don’t mind,” said Paul. “Where are you driving to?”
“That’s just it. No place in particular.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well,” said the detective, “we got a report about fifteen minutes ago
that a car was stolen.” He brought a slip of paper out of his pocket
and gave it to Paul. “Here,” he said, “look at it and then keep your
eyes open. We will begin at one end of the town and ride through street
by street. It may be that the owner parked it somewhere and forgot the
place.”
Paul looked at the slip of paper. He read, “Ford ... four door sedan
... license number S 91 52.”
For a while they rode along talking of various things. They rode down
one street and up the next street. Walters related some experiences of
his as a detective. Finally he remarked, “By the way, the oddest thing
happened to me yesterday. I was walking along and suddenly I noticed a
man that was the exact image of George Wilson, the government agent. I
was so astonished, I couldn’t imagine him being in town when two days
ago I saw him off on the train.”
“Did you stop him?” demanded Paul excitedly. “Did you see where he
went?”
The detective said, “Why, no. That’s just it. I closed my eyes for a
second because I thought they were deceiving me. When I opened them
again, he was gone.”
“Now isn’t that the worst of luck,” said Paul. “He is just the man we
are looking for.”
“What did he do?” asked Walters. “What do you want him for?”
“We need him to clear up the mystery of the white card. We think he is
the missing link in the puzzle.”
“That’s right,” remarked the detective. “I think I remember you telling
me something about this white card mystery. Did you do anything about
it?”
“No. And that is why we are looking for this man.”
“How do you mean?”
“Well, our original clues led up to our following this man. But we got
him mixed up with the government agent and that is how we happened to
come upon the counterfeit gang. Well, sir, after all that was cleared
up, we questioned Mr. Wilson but he didn’t know anything about the
white card and then we knew we were up the wrong tree.”
“In other words,” said the detective, “as far as I can figure it out,
you are back where you started and now you are looking for him again.”
“That’s right.”
“Well, I wish you luck. Maybe if you keep it up long enough, you will
come across another gang of crooks. But this time finish the job
yourself.”
“I don’t think we will be able to do that,” returned Paul smiling. “You
see, Jack, Ken and I are leaving for college in two weeks.”
“We will have to do something about that,” said the detective. “I will
tell the chief to move the police headquarters to the college or have
him move the college here. Which would you prefer?”
“Neither one. When I get to college, I won’t have much time for
anything except study.”
“What are you going to study?”
“Jack and I are going to study to be doctors.”
“Your father is a doctor, isn’t he?”
“Yes.”
“It’s a very respectable profession. I wish I had gone to college and
studied a profession.”
“Aren’t you satisfied with being a detective?”
“Oh, I’m satisfied all right but I guess it’s like the saying, that
when you’re one thing you always want to be something else.”
They were crossing Main Street and Paul spied Ken walking along.
Hailing his friend, the detective pulled up to the curb and Ken got
into the car. “Where are you two going?” he asked.
“Just going for a ride,” said the detective. “Want to come along?”
“Sure, why not. I have nothing in particular to do right now. I was on
my way for a swim, but this is all right.”
“Well, keep your eyes open for a Ford four door sedan, license number S
91 52. Walters is looking for it,” said Paul.
“Stolen?”
“No,” said the detective, “just removed by the wrong party.”
“By the way,” spoke up Paul, “Walters here has come across the mystery
man of the white card, the man that looks like Mr. Wilson.”
Ken leaned forward eagerly. “You mean it?” he cried. “Did you arrest
him, Walters?”
“No. I didn’t want to bother,” the detective replied.
“Didn’t want to bother!”
“He is kidding you,” said Paul. “The man looks so much like Mr. Wilson
that he couldn’t believe his own eyes. Well, he closed them for a
second, and when he opened them again, the man was gone.”
“Just like a detective!” cried Ken.
“What do you mean?” asked Walters.
“To close your eyes to things.”
For several seconds there was silence, then Walters burst out laughing.
“That’s a good one,” he cried, “I’ll have to remember it.”
“Well, what are we going to do now?” asked Ken.
Paul shrugged his shoulders and didn’t answer. For a short while
they rode along in silence. Suddenly, both Ken and Paul cried
simultaneously, “Look!”
About ten yards ahead of them was a Ford sedan with the license number
S 91 52 parked at the curb. Walters swung over to the curb and pulled
up directly behind the Ford car.