A New Turn of Events

Jack stopped dead in his tracks. His two friends also stopped and faced him. “What is it?” asked Paul.

“I was just wondering,” answered Jack, “whether we shouldn’t go back there, watch until those two leave and then go down there again.”

“Go down where?” asked Ken; they had not yet told him of the cellar they had discovered.

Paul shook his head. “No,” he said. “We have had enough for one day. And then, I want some time to think this thing over and try to piece everything together. Let’s go to Ken’s garage where we can have some privacy.”

“You really think we shouldn’t go back?” asked Jack.

“Yes, I’m convinced.”

“Don’t mind me,” said Ken as the three of them continued walking. “I’m only an ornament among the three of us.”

“Don’t be so impatient,” said Paul. “Wait. We’ll tell you everything.”

They came to Ken’s garage and sat down on boxes. Paul related what had happened. Several times Ken gasped in astonishment. When the story was finally ended, Paul commented, “But what puzzles me is how all the incidents fit together. The fires, Mr. Grey, Jack getting bumped on the head, Captain Bob, where do all these facts fit in?”

“As far as Captain Bob is concerned, you can leave him out of it,” commented Jack. “No matter what it is all about, I’m quite sure he is an innocent party.”

“Yes,” said Ken. “As chief of the fire department he naturally would be interested in why there are an unusually large number of fires.”

“All right, suppose we agree that Captain Bob is out of it,” said Paul, “what about all the other facts. How does Mr. Grey fit in, for example?”

“Yes, how does he fit in?” asked Ken. “Isn’t it possible that what you stumbled on today has nothing to do with all the other incidents?”

“It may sound all right,” remarked Jack, “but I don’t think so. For example, by now I am convinced that the fellow who hit me came out of that cellar.”

“But why should he run away?” questioned Paul. “Why couldn’t he have made you a prisoner, as that would be a more natural thing to do?”

“Perhaps,” argued Jack. “But if he had, he would have had to take me down in the cellar. Now suppose he blindfolds me, still I might hear something they say. I might escape and inform the police. My opinion is that he hit me and ran away, hoping that the blow on the head would scare me so that I would never return.”

His two companions nodded. “Suppose we accept that as the real reason. Where does everything else fit in? What are they doing with a printing press down there? They shouldn’t have to hide that.”

“But the mere fact that they are hiding it is proof that they are doing something illegal,” commented Ken.

His two companions repeated the word, “Illegal! Illegal!”

Jack began to walk up and down, his chin in his hand and deep in thought. The other two were also silent and thinking hard. Jack picked up an old newspaper from the floor. Suddenly he dropped the paper, jumped high into the air and cried frantically, “I have it! I have it!”

His two friends leaped out of their seats, and ran up to him. “Well!” demanded Paul, for once impatient and curious. “What is the answer?”

“The answer is,” whispered Jack and then paused, “Counterfeiters!” he whispered.

Ken jumped into the air enthusiastically. “That’s right!” he cried. “That’s right!”

Paul smiled with satisfaction. Putting an arm around Jack, he said, “It sounds very reasonable. Counterfeiters have to use a printing press. And counterfeiters do something illegal and therefore have to hide.” He nodded his head. “Sounds very logical.”

They returned to their seats. “But,” continued Paul, “even if we grant the fact that they are counterfeiters, how do all the other incidents fit in? The fires and Mr. Grey for example?”

“Must they fit in?” inquired Ken.

“They don’t have to,” was Paul’s reply, “but I have a notion that they do.”

Jack nodded and agreed with his chum. “I feel the same way about it,” he said. “It is very possible that what we have discovered today has absolutely nothing to do with the fires or Mr. Grey. But somehow I have a feeling that there is some connection. But I can’t say what.”

“But if there is some sort of a connection between all these facts, how do you think they fit in?” asked Paul.

Jack shook his head. Ken said, “Suppose we begin from the very beginning. I mean from the time you came upon the house, Jack. Now, was it not Mr. Grey who led you to the house?”

“Yes. And then he sneaked around in the back and scared me half to death.”

“All right. Now if he had anything to do with the counterfeiters do you think he would have led you to that very house he wants you to keep away from? If he were a member of that gang of counterfeiters and he knew you were following him, don’t you think he would lead you to some other part of town?”

Paul said, “That may sound logical, but the opposite may also sound logical. For example, if we concede that the fellow who hit Jack on the head and then ran away did it to frighten him so that he would keep away from there, why can’t we say the same thing about Mr. Grey? Is it not possible that Mr. Grey knew he was being followed and purposely led Jack to that very house, then sneaked up behind him to frighten him so that he would never return? Isn’t that very plausible?”

“Say,” cried Jack, “if what you say is true, that fellow certainly made a mistake.”

“And how!” echoed Ken.

“Now if we know all that,” continued Paul, “that makes Mr. Grey a member of the gang of counterfeiters.”

“But what about the fires? And leading Betty away. And those white cards, what about them? And the robbery at Professor Link’s?”

The boys looked at each other very glumly. “The whole thing is like a crazy jigsaw puzzle,” muttered Paul.

“Telling me!” mumbled Ken. “It has already given me a headache. The thing worries me so, I can’t sleep nights.”

The boys laughed at the manner in which Ken said it. “You have to sleep,” remarked Jack. “Otherwise how are we going to solve this jigsaw puzzle of a mystery?”

The boys sat around and brooded. Three minds with one thought—how to solve the mystery; how all the details fitted into the general picture. They were so silent and lost in thought that they were not at all aware of Ken’s little sister Betty approaching and regarding them with surprise. She stood rooted in one spot and stared at her brother and his two friends. Finally she couldn’t bear it any longer. She opened her mouth wide and cried suddenly, “Boo!” The boys jumped as though they were shot. Reassured again, they smiled heaving sighs of relief. “Mother says you should come to dinner,” she said.

“Dinner!” exclaimed Ken. “Is it time for dinner already?”

All three simultaneously looked at their watches. “My, how time flies,” mumbled Jack. “Twelve-thirty already.”

Mrs. Armstrong came to the porch and called, “Betty!”

“I’m right here, Mother,” cried the child. And she ran to the porch.

“Did you find Ken?”

“He is at the garage. And Jack and Paul too.”

“Tell them all to come in; lunch is ready.”

The boys entered the house. Paul and Jack telephoned home that they were having lunch with Ken. At the table, in the midst of the meal, Jack almost choked as he thought of something. “Hurry up, fellows,” he whispered. “I’ve just thought of something important.”

“Can’t you at least eat without thinking?” mocked Ken.

“Yes, take it easy,” was Paul’s advice.

“Choke easy, you mean,” corrected Ken.

“Stop all that talk,” spoke up Jack, “and hurry up and finish. I want to get out and talk this thing over.”

As soon as they were through with their meal, the boys retreated to the garage again. “Now what is it?” asked Paul.

“It is something that I thought of just as soon as we got into the cellar,” replied Jack, “but it slipped my mind and I forgot to mention it.”

“Well, what is it?” asked Ken. “Don’t keep us in suspense.”

“It’s this. When we descended the stairs into the cellar, Paul, it occurred to me that if the police cornered the gang of counterfeiters in that cellar, how would they manage to escape?”

“They wouldn’t,” was Ken’s opinion.

“Suppose you were one of the gang, wouldn’t you think of such a possibility and make sure of an exit, of a means of escape?”

“Certainly.”

“Then that means, that probably there is another entrance or exit into that cellar.”

“That’s right,” said Paul. “I’m glad you thought of it. It is something we should have thought of at once.”

“Oh I wish you didn’t,” said Ken, pretending that he was in tears, “because that only adds another item in the puzzle to solve.”

“Which isn’t going to be very easy.”

“No, it certainly won’t.”

“Let’s come down to earth now,” remarked Jack, “and think in terms of action. What are we going to do now? What should be our plan of action from now on? Can you think of anything, Paul?”

For a short while, there was silence. At last Paul ventured to suggest, “We might, for example, give up following Mr. Grey; at least temporarily. Then we have to watch that house and get to know the men entering and leaving and determine as well as we can who the members of the gang are.”

“I was just thinking of something,” remarked Ken. “Do you remember, Paul, how hostile the grocery man was and how he squirmed out of giving you any information about Mr. Grey?”

“Yes, what about it?”

“Well, it just occurred to me, that the man must know something if he is so anxious to conceal it.”

“Hmm!” muttered Jack.

“Another thing,” continued Ken. “Isn’t it true, Jack, that each time you followed Mr. Grey, it seemed to you that he emerged from that corner house, the house in which the store is situated?”

“That’s right. What are you driving at?”

Ken scratched his head. “I feel this way about it,” he said, “that most likely that corner house is owned or at least rented by the grocery man. Now if Mr. Grey comes out of that house, he must live there.” His two companions leaned forward and listened to him attentively. They suspected that what he was saying might be very valuable. He continued, “Therefore, if Mr. Grey lives in that house, the grocery man must know him; under ordinary circumstances, he would have no reason to say that he didn’t know Mr. Grey. It therefore follows that either he knows that Mr. Grey is a crook or possibly he himself is somehow involved in the situation.”

The boys gasped. The reasonableness and logic of Ken’s statement was beyond question. Yet how true was it? If it were true, another missing link was being added to the already complicating puzzle. “Then why,” asked Jack, “should the woman have mentioned the name Mr. Grey when you entered the store and asked for information Ken?”

Paul answered, “That’s simple. If we assume that what Ken said is true, the grocery man’s wife knows nothing of her husband’s operations and very innocently gave away the name.”

“Yes, that’s right,” agreed Ken.

“That only makes it worse,” muttered Jack.

Again the group became silent. They would hit upon an idea, discuss it rapidly and then they would brood for a while. Jack leaped to his feet. “Let’s do something,” he cried.

Paul rose. “I for one,” he said, “am going home and I suggest you do the same. That will calm us down. Then we will meet again after supper and—do something.”