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.”