WHAT HAPPENED IN THE STORM
“A book of formulas?” repeated the young major of the Colby Hall
battalion. “Just what do you mean by that, Ruth?”
“It’s rather a long story, Jack, and I don’t know all of the
particulars. But it seems that during the great World War two Germans,
brothers, came to this country, bringing with them some formulas for
making artists’ paints. They had been in the business both in Germany
and in France and could produce most wonderful shadings in these
artists’ materials.”
“I see, Ruth. I know the Germans were always great on formulas of dyes
and things like that.”
“Well, these two Germans were very old men, and in a roundabout way
they offered to sell these formulas, for they felt that they were too
old to go into the manufacture of such things.
“Now, my father, as perhaps you know, has been interested for several
years in a small paint works located in the Middle West. Through the
manager of these paint works he was introduced to the two old Germans
who came East to see him and finally offered him these wonderful
formulas, provided he would keep the entire matter secret.
“They proved to his satisfaction that they owned all rights to the
preparations, and offered to sell said rights for the sum of thirty
thousand dollars.”
“Thirty thousand dollars!” exclaimed Jack. “Some little sum of money,
I’ll say!”
“My father didn’t have so much cash, but he borrowed some from a
bank and got some more from old Uncle Barney, who was making money
out of those zinc ore beds on Snowshoe Island. Together they went
in and bought the formulas, which were written out in detail in a
leather-bound notebook. They had originally been written in German and
in French, but were translated by one of the old Germans into English.”
“And after your father had purchased this book of formulas it was
stolen from him?”
“Yes. He brought it home with him and would have placed it in a safe
deposit vault, but took it home for the purpose of making a duplicate
copy. Of course, he didn’t want to trust any outsiders with the secret
just yet; so he started in to make the copy himself.”
“Then the book was stolen?”
“Exactly! It disappeared one night. He had left it locked up in his
desk, and when he went for it the next day he found that his desk
had been broken open and that the valuable book of formulas had
disappeared.”
“What of the copy he had been making?”
“That had disappeared also.”
“Gracious! No wonder he was upset, Ruth. Thirty thousand dollars is no
mean price to pay for a thing and then have it stolen. Did he suspect
anybody?”
“There was nobody to suspect. Our maid had left our employ about a week
before and gone to live with a family in Philadelphia. There was nobody
at home but my mother and my father, for mother had not yet succeeded
in getting another maid.”
“But wasn’t there any trace of the thief?”
“They found that a window of the library had been broken open; but that
was all. Nothing was disturbed in the house except the desk. That was
of the regular roller-top variety and of course could be broken open
with ease.”
“The thief or thieves must have been watching your father while he was
using the book. Otherwise they wouldn’t have been so certain where it
could be found.”
“That is what daddy thinks. While he was making his copy he sat under
the light with the curtains of the windows only partly drawn. Anybody
outside could have looked in.”
“Did your father suspect the two old Germans?”
“Not at all. They were nowhere near. Both of them had gone to live with
relatives out in Milwaukee. He at once telegraphed to them, telling
of the loss and asking if they had duplicate copies of the formulas.
They at once sent a night letter stating they had no duplicates, and
advising him to be on the lookout for two men named Norris and Lemrech.
Later my father received a letter in which the old Germans told about
two workmen who had tried their best to get the formulas away from
them. These workmen were Carl Lemrech and Tex Norris, his American
cousin. They said that Lemrech was of a shady reputation, and not above
stealing the formulas, and that evidently his American cousin was the
same stripe of man.”
“Has your father been able to get on the trail of those two men?”
“No. He hired a detective to follow them up, but they had left the
boarding house where they had been staying for some time and had
disappeared.”
“Then it is this that is making your father look so haggard, Ruth!”
“Yes. Because as soon as he obtained the formulas and was satisfied
that they were really as valuable as anticipated, he took some more
money belonging to himself and to my Uncle Barney and purchased a
factory in which to manufacture these artists’ colors. He had samples
of the colors, and, oh, Jack, you never saw such beautiful greens and
reds and blues in all your life! They were simply wonderful! I’m sure
artists would go crazy over them!”
“I suppose your father is at a standstill in the case then.”
“Absolutely. If something doesn’t turn up soon I don’t know what he
will do.”
“Has he told your Uncle Barney about this loss?”
“Yes. He sent word the day after the flying machine accident.”
“What has your Uncle Barney to say about it?”
“I don’t know. I haven’t heard from him. But I suppose he’ll be just as
much upset as daddy. I think he put every cent he had got out of the
zinc mines into this new concern.”
“It’s too bad, Ruth. I wish I could help you. If only a fellow could
get on the trail of this Lemrech and his cousin Norris! Does your
father suppose they will be able to use the formulas?”
“More than likely. You see, the whole affair was conducted more or less
in secret. That being the fact, what is to prevent those two rascals
from selling the formulas to some other color maker?” answered the girl
somewhat sadly.
A few minutes later the two rejoined the others. Andy was cutting up
and telling some of his queer jokes, and he had the girls shrieking
with laughter.
“And that puts me in mind of another!” Jack heard his fun-loving cousin
exclaim. “When is an apple pie more than an apple pie?”
“Oh, Andy! how can an apple pie be more than just an apple pie?”
murmured May Powell.
“Isn’t it more of an apple pie when it’s a peach of an apple pie?”
retorted Andy. And then May made a pass at him with a book she was
carrying.
“You haven’t said a thing about the races you are going to have with
Longley Academy,” came from Mary Rover. “Who is going to be in them?
And when are they to take place? And are we going to be able to see
them?”
“That’s all right, Cousin Mary! Fire three questions at a fellow all
at once!” broke out Randy. “There are to be some single shell races,
a four-oared race, and an eight-oared race. Also they are talking of
getting up a race between two of the motor-boats.”
“My! but a race between motor-boats would be exciting,” murmured Martha.
“Andy and Randy are to be in one of the four-oared races,” said Jack.
“Who is to row with them hasn’t yet been decided. Probably Spouter and
Dan Soppinger. A lot of the other fellows will be in the singles and in
the eight-oared events. The contests are to come off a week from next
Saturday.”
“Where will they be held?” questioned May.
“That’s to be decided in a few days. Longley wants ’em on the other
side of the lake and we want ’em on this side. I hope they have ’em on
this side, because then all the folks living in and around Haven Point
will be able to witness them.”
All too soon the visit had to come to an end, and with cheery good-bys
the boys hurried back to Haven Point. They found Bob Nixon waiting for
them.
“I was going to give you five minutes more,” declared the Hall
chauffeur. “We’d better be getting back. It’s getting late.”
After that matters went along smoothly for several days. The Rover
boys paid close attention to their studies. During that time the boys
heard from the aviator and his wrecked biplane. It had been found that
the biplane could be raised with comparative ease, and this had been
done and it had then been floated over to the shore. The propeller
was broken, as already mentioned, and one of the wings of the flying
machine was also damaged. It was learned that the motor had become
loosened from its fastenings, just as the other aviator had surmised,
and this had caused all the trouble. The machine was taken away and
the aviators went with it, and that was the last seen or heard of them
for the time being. The aero corporation paid Mr. Stevenson’s doctor’s
bill. Perhaps they looked for a suit for damages, but it was not
forthcoming.
The next Sunday the Rover boys attended one of the churches at Haven
Point and met Mary and Martha and a number of the other girls.
“It’s been decided that we’re to hold the races on this side of the
lake,” said Fred, after the services were over and they were outside
talking to the girls. “It was decided by a toss-up, and, believe me,
the Longley crowd was mad when they lost. They chewed it over for
nearly an hour before they would give in. They said that it would be
much better to race over on the other side of the lake, along where the
Hasley Shell Loading Company used to have its ammunition plant.”
“Good gracious! do they want to blow us all up?” questioned Martha, who
had not forgotten the terrible experience all of them had had when some
of the buildings of the shell loading company had been blown up, as
related in detail in “The Rover Boys Under Canvas.”
“Oh, as far as that is concerned, the plant went out of existence long
ago,” answered Jack. “But there isn’t much of a population over there,
and it will be much nicer to have it on this side where so many people
can look at it from the shore. It was decided that Longley Academy
should have the use of one of the big docks, so they’ll have no cause
to complain.”
“Can we be on hand to see the races?” questioned Ruth.
“That, of course, will depend on what Miss Garwood has to say,”
answered the young major. “But I think Colonel Colby will see her about
it and fix it up. And if he does, you may be sure that we’ll take care
of all of you.”
“I know Tommy Flanders expects to row. He’s been bragging about it
everywhere,” declared May.
“Well, he used to brag a good deal about baseball,” answered Andy.
“He says that he has gotten all over the trouble that he had with his
arm and that this season he’s going to pitch again,” went on Spouter’s
cousin.
A little later the Rovers found themselves returning to Colby Hall
on foot. It was rather a misty day, and before they had covered half
of the distance to the school it had begun to rain. The sky grew
exceedingly dark.
“I don’t like this much!” exclaimed Fred. “Not an umbrella nor a
raincoat in the bunch, either!”
“I don’t want to get this uniform wet,” put in Randy. “It’s the best
I’ve got.”
“Mine is getting awfully tight,” commented Fred. “If it begins to
shrink I don’t know what I’ll do.”
“Colonel Colby’s uniforms don’t shrink,” put in Jack. “Your uniform is
tight because you’re getting too fat, Fred.”
“Oh, let up on my getting fat,” pleaded the youngest Rover. “I’m not
half as fat as Fatty Hendry.”
“And you don’t want to be!” exclaimed Randy. “Gosh! Fatty’ll never have
to work for a living. All he’ll need to do is to sit on a platform in
a side show and look pleasant and sell his photographs for twenty-five
cents a copy.”
The downpour now became so heavy that the lads were forced to seek
shelter in an old barn standing by the side of the road. So far there
had been no thunder or lightning, but now they heard a distant rumble,
and presently the sky to the westward was brilliantly illuminated.
“Gee! I guess we’re in for a regular summer storm,” said Fred. “Wish we
were back at the Hall.”
“We’ll be late for dinner, that’s certain,” said Randy.
The rain continued to come down and presently there was more lightning
followed by a sharp clap of thunder.
“It’s getting worse,” said Jack.
“I hope the lightning doesn’t strike this old shack,” answered Fred.
“Oh, it isn’t likely, Fred. I think――――”
What Jack thought will never be known, for at that instant there came
a crash of another sort, followed by a yell and a jingle of glass.
Through the side of the old barn broke a big six-cylindered touring
car. The hood of the car was carried away by the impact, and the
machine turned over on its side, burying its single occupant, a man,
beneath it.