CLIPPINGS
Their friend, the fisherman, was greatly interested in the Hardy boys'
adventure with Carl Schaum and wanted to know all the details of the
affair. Frank and Joe told him why they had captured Schaum, and also
told him of the Shore Road automobile thefts, although they modestly
omitted any mention of their own part in bringing the car thieves to
justice.
When they arrived back at the cottage the fisherman was anxious that
they go in and continue the chat, but the Hardy boys wanted to return
to the caves.
"Some other time," they promised.
"Well," said the fisherman reluctantly, "if you won't come in, I
suppose you won't; but you must come back and see me before you leave
these parts. You're smart lads, cotchin' that jailbird, and I'm sure
he's the fellow that's been performin' all the monkeyshines down around
Honeycomb Caves."
Frank and Joe said nothing. It occurred to them that possibly the
fisher folk did not know of Captain Royal's presence in the vicinity
and they preferred to keep the secret to themselves.
"Yes," said the man, wagging his head, "I guess he was the chap, all
right, even if you don't seem to think so."
"He was a thief, at any rate," said Joe.
"He stole your grub, you was sayin'. If you need more, you're welcome
to anything I've got here. It ain't much, but you're more'n welcome,"
said their hospitable friend.
The boys thanked him, but assured him that Carl Schaum had been forced
to divulge the hiding place of the provisions. With great glee they
told how they had frightened him into telling.
"We're all set for a few days' stay now," said Frank. "I guess we won't
be bothered any more."
The boys parted from the fisherman and ascended the path up the
hillside again. Up over the rocks, along the cliff edge until they came
to the ravine, down the steep slope, and after an arduous hour they
were again at their cave.
Chet and Biff were nowhere to be seen, so the Hardy boys assumed that
they were still fishing.
"When we tell them all the adventures we've had, they'll be as mad as
hops," laughed Frank.
"We've sure covered a lot of territory since they last saw us."
"And the day isn't over yet. We still have Captain Royal to attend to."
It was still damp and foggy as they went on down the beach, and
although it was midday the mist hung so heavily over the sea that they
could see only a short distance ahead. It was almost as dark as at dusk.
"I believe the fog is growing worse," remarked Frank.
"It certainly seems worse since we've got down on the shore again."
"I hope Chet and Biff don't get lost."
"Not much danger of getting lost around here. It's pretty hard to get
far from the ocean, and once you're on the beach you just have to keep
walking until you find the caves."
The boys came to the place where they had spied Carl Schaum in his
drunken slumber.
"Let's see if he was telling us the truth about that cave of his," Joe
suggested. "We might as well make sure that our provisions are safe."
"There's a cave here, all right. Look, I can see it over by those big
boulders."
"So there is. Queer that we didn't notice it before. The rocks hide it
from view unless you stand right in front of it."
"Trust Carl to pick a good hiding place. If he hadn't made the mistake
of getting drunk and wandering beyond his own front door, he might be
a free man yet."
"It isn't the first time that liquor has landed a man in jail."
The boys approached the entrance of the cave. It was, as Joe had
pointed out, almost invisible from the beach, unless one happened to
look up when standing directly in front of the opening, because a
number of huge boulders obscured it.
Inside, they found unmistakable evidence of human habitation.
"There are our provisions!" exclaimed Frank.
He pointed to a box that stood beside a few blankets in a corner of the
little cave. It was filled with the food that Schaum had stolen from
them. Very little of it had been touched; the robber had been given no
time to dispose of his loot.
"Well, I never expected to see _that_ again," said Joe.
"I guess it's safe enough where it is. We can pick it up on our way
back from Captain Royal's."
"How about these blankets? Schaum said we could have them."
Frank picked up one of the blankets. It was heavy and of excellent
quality.
"I'll say he was mighty generous, letting us have good blankets like
these," he declared. "They seem brand new, too."
"If they are, there must be a catch in it somewhere."
"There is. Look!"
Frank held out the blanket. Stamped into the fabric was the name,
"Hotel Bayport." The reason for Schaum's sudden burst of generosity was
now clear.
"No wonder he didn't want to take them with him. He knew that if the
police laid eyes on those blankets he'd have another charge laid
against him. He must have stolen them from the hotel after he escaped
from jail."
"I think he would take anything that wasn't nailed down," said Joe.
"Well, we can take the blankets back with us and return them to the
hotel, at any rate."
"Sure. We'll leave 'em here with the grub until we're ready to go back
to our own cave."
The boys found nothing else worthy of attention in Carl Schaum's crude
abode except a revolver hidden beneath a rock near the blankets. They
appropriated this, to turn over to the police when they should return
to Bayport.
They departed, well satisfied with their visit.
"Chet will give three cheers when he sees the grub again. I don't think
he was very cheerful about the thought of going on short rations until
we got new supplies," said Frank.
"I wasn't very cheerful about it myself," Joe admitted. "It makes me
sore when I think of Schaum stealing all that stuff. Why, one man
couldn't eat it all in a month."
"Perhaps he intended to stay a month, or even longer, if he could get
away with it."
"Well, he might have left us more than he did. I'm glad I was able to
douse some water in his face."
The Hardy boys were soon in sight of Captain Royal's cave. The gloomy
opening was barely visible through the lowering mist.
"I wonder if the old gentleman could be at home, Joe."
"No sign of life around, anyway."
"Perhaps he's asleep."
They made their way to the cave-mouth, cautiously. Still there was no
sign of the captain.
"Better call him," suggested Frank.
They halted.
"Captain Royal!" shouted Joe.
There was no answer.
"I guess he's not at home."
They called out Captain Royal's name again, but still there was no
reply, so they ventured close to the cave-mouth and peeped inside. The
place was deserted.
"Shall we go in?" said Joe.
"Sure. We'll take a look around."
They stepped inside the cave. Captain Royal had evidently spent the
night there, for his bed was even untidier than it had been the
previous day.
"Perhaps he's gone fishing," said Frank.
He was looking about the cave and suddenly his gaze fell on a small
cupboard, consisting of a box on a ledge of rock, in which he could see
a number of books. He gave a low whistle of surprise.
"The worthy captain has a library," remarked Joe.
"Let's see what his taste in reading matter is like."
Frank went over to the improvised cupboard and picked up one of the
books. It fell open and a number of strips of paper fluttered to the
floor of the cave.
Frank bent to pick up the papers. He looked at them curiously.
"Newspaper clippings!"
"We might get a clue about him from them," Joe suggested.
In the dim light, Frank scrutinized one of the clippings. It was a
despatch from Boston, dated several months previous, and consisted of
an address on Egyptian civilization given by a world-famous traveler
who had spoken in that city.
"This is uncommonly dull, if you ask me," said Frank at last, putting
the clipping aside and picking up another.
"No mention of Todham Todd?"
"Not that I can find."
Joe took one of the other clippings and the boys perused them
diligently, seeking some mention of the missing college professor.
All the clippings were devoted to various lectures that had been given
by various speakers in different parts of the country within recent
months.
"Looks as if he was a lecturer, or had some interest in lectures, at
any rate," Joe commented.
Patiently, they examined clipping after clipping, but in none of them
did they find any mention of Todham Todd. A further search of the
cupboard, however, revealed a veritable mass of papers, and the boys
settled down to a thorough study of them.
"He's a queer kind of sailor, that's sure," declared Frank. "I never
heard of a sailor who collected clippings about lectures."
The other papers were similar clippings, as well as typewritten
documents. When the boys examined these documents in the hope of
finding some clue to the former activities of Captain Royal, they found
that they were manuscripts of lectures on philosophy and other topics.
But still they found no mention of the name of Todham Todd.
"Well, whether he's mentioned in these papers or not, I'm sure that
Captain Royal and Todham Todd are the same man," observed Joe. "No
sailor would ever carry all this stuff around with him."
"It certainly looks peculiar," his brother agreed. "But there are some
more papers yet. We'll look through them all. If he is Todham Todd it's
hardly likely that he would carry clippings about other men's lectures
and none of his own."
Sheet after sheet, they perused. There were lectures by visiting
authors, lectures by big-game hunters, lectures by Arctic explorers,
lectures by college professors, photographs of lecturers.
"He is certainly interested in lecturing. Perhaps it's just a
coincidence. Crazy men will do crazy things. Perhaps Captain Royal
just has a sort of lunatic streak that way," said Joe finally, when it
seemed evident that none of the clippings or documents bore any mention
of Todham Todd.
"Perhaps you're right. I hate to admit it, though. I was sure we had
stumbled on a red-hot clue."
Frank scrutinized the last of the clippings.
"Nothing about him in this one either. I can't figure it out. Beyond
the fact that all these stories deal with lectures, there is no
connection between them. They're all by different men and all on
different subjects."
At that moment Joe espied a small box close by. He opened it, and out
tumbled a second mass of clippings.
"Gee, look at this!" he exclaimed.
"More lectures?" questioned his brother, with a sigh.
"Lectures? No!" shouted the younger Hardy boy. "It's a murder case!
Look, Frank!"
"You're fooling!"
But even as he spoke Frank Hardy scanned the sheet of newspaper his
brother held towards him. There, in glaring headlines, were the words
BARTON BIXBY SHOT DOWN
Former Naval Officer Kills Old Friend
With a Shotgun
Police Follow Clues in Vain
There followed a long account of a killing that had taken place in
Richmond three weeks before. A certain Lieutenant Patwick had murdered
a former friend who had spoken ill of him at a club. Patwick had then
fled to parts unknown. The lieutenant was said to be of a nervous,
high-strung temperament.
"Gosh! he may not be Todham Todd after all," remarked Frank. "He may be
this Lieutenant Patwick simply trying to conceal his true identity."
"Or else gone crazy because of his crime," added Joe.
There were several other clippings concerning the crime. Evidently the
perpetrator had outwitted both police and detectives.
"We'll have to look into this," said Frank soberly.
"You bet. For all we know--"
Joe stopped speaking and thrust all the clippings behind him. A shadow
had darkened the mouth of the cave.
"Who is in there?" an angry voice bellowed.