Following Up Their Clues

Jack was restless, excited. The mystery had him upset. While Paul and Ken each went to their respective homes, Jack loitered along Main Street. Not that he hoped to do anything or come upon any clues; he merely didn’t feel like going home. He walked down as far as Jones Street and again investigated the neighborhood. Returning to the corner, he went into the store and on the pretense that he was buying a small box of chocolate wafers, he let his eyes wander about the place. But there was nothing especial to see; it was the same as any other ordinary grocery. The woman was in the store and she appeared to be a mild sort of person. Considering it unwise to ask any questions or seek any information from her, he paid for his wafers and left.

He munched as he walked along. Thinking hard for some plan of action, he couldn’t come to any definite decision. Finally he concluded that Paul was right—he should go home and let the matter rest for a while. Quickening his pace, he walked home and busied himself with tasks about the house.

After supper, the three boys met at Paul’s home. They sat down on the porch and waited for someone to speak first. Paul finally spoke up and said, “Right now, I think, we have to look into two angles of the situation. One of us should go down to Jones Street and watch the grocery man. The other two should go back to that empty house and see what happens there.”

“How about you going down to Jones Street?” asked Jack. “You spoke to the grocery man and you know what he looks like.”

“That suits me. You and Ken, in the meanwhile, will watch the empty house.”

“How about that other angle of yours, Paul? The one about watching out for a fire at some house owned by the Jones and Jones real estate company,” commented Ken. “I think it’s a good hunch that we ought to follow up.”

“I think we can drop it for tonight at any rate and see what happens,” answered Paul. “Let’s go.”

They walked off the porch and headed for Main Street. “So long,” called Paul, and waved.

“Good luck,” returned Jack.

“We’ll be seeing you,” said Ken.

Jack and Ken walked off together. “It’s a little early yet, don’t you think?” asked Ken.

Jack looked at his watch; it was not quite seven-thirty. “Yes,” he answered. “But we will go down there anyhow and see.”

They walked past the house as though they were ordinary pedestrians. Coming to the railroad tracks, they turned around and walked back through the street on which the back of the house faced. It was eight o’clock now but it was still daylight. So they decided to walk around the block once more and as far as the railroad tracks. As soon as it became dusk, they returned to the house and took up different positions. Jack hid himself directly behind the fence overlooking the front of the house; Ken, on the other hand, picked out a hiding place at the rear of the house. The two were thus able to keep a watch all around the house and at the same time be within reach of each other in case of necessity.

The boys watched the sky become gray and the stars come out; the moon crept out of the horizon and night descended. Perfectly still, noiseless, inconspicuous, the two kept guard. Every once in a while, people passed up and down the street, and immediately Jack was on the alert, anxious, impatient. But nothing happened and time dragged along. Suddenly he heard the sound of a soft whistle and he turned his head to locate Ken. Again the same soft whistle. Jack looked all around him, then, very cautiously, he crept over to his friend. Ken had his ear to the ground. Jack whispered, “What’s up?”

Ken motioned for his friend to put his ear to the ground and Jack did so. He flattened himself out and glued his ear to the ground. A slight trembling of the earth came to his ears, accompanied by a steady, muffled sound. For about five minutes both boys put their ears to the ground and listened. Ken, although he guessed what it was, whispered, “What do you think it is?”

“The printing press.”

Ken nodded. “I thought so too.”

Jack whispered, “When did you first hear that sound?” he asked.

“It seemed to begin only a short while ago.”

The boys were silent, thinking hard. If the press had been operating only a short while, then it was most logical to conclude that whoever was in the cellar had come there recently, within the last thirty, forty, fifty minutes. Yet the boys had been on guard for a full hour and as far as they knew, no one had entered the house by the front door. Jack, therefore, became more firmly convinced that there was another door somewhere; that the cellar could be reached and left perhaps some distance away from the house. Jack whispered, “I’m going back.”

Ken nodded. His friend crept away and again he was alone. Each one in his own hiding place, they watched and waited, but nothing happened. Overhead was the blue sky with the moon and the stars. All around them was darkness. Their waiting and watching was in vain—at least so it seemed.

Another hour passed and still nothing happened. Ken lay with his ear to the ground and occupied himself with listening to the hissing sound that came out of the earth. Jack watched and waited but not a thing stirred. He became restless and chafed with impatience. Finally he wiggled over to Ken and also put his ear to the ground. Still that hissing sound and the trembling of the earth. Ken whispered, “They must be working hard down there.”

Jack nodded and kept silent. Together they lay flat on the ground and listened. Again it was Ken who whispered, “What do you say, you think we ought to go? There is nothing doing here.”

“No, let’s wait a short while more. I wonder what Paul is doing.”

“Same here. I hope at least he has found something interesting to do. This doing nothing is killing me.”

Jack felt the same way about it. As a matter of fact, Jack was of more impatient nature than Ken, but he felt it upon himself to urge his friend on. “Take it easy and don’t lose your patience,” he whispered back. “A thing like this takes time you know; plenty of time.”

Again they fixed their ears to the ground. They remained like that for a short time. Suddenly they pushed their ears deeper into the ground. In the darkness, they looked at each other. “Do you hear what I hear?” whispered Ken.

“Yes, nothing.”

“That’s right. They must have stopped the printing press.”

“Yes. Now what?”

Silence. The boys knitted their brows. If they had stopped their press, Jack asked himself, would they be coming out of the cellar now? And if they were, which door would they use? Possibly they would come out by the front door because they might not care to use the same door for an exit as well as an entrance. But if they did use the rear door how would the boys find it? Jack looked around. It might be in either of three directions, he reasoned to himself—on either sides of the house or to the rear; to the front was the sidewalk and street, which would be a most improbable means for a tunnel or other form of approach and exit. “Stay here,” he whispered to Ken. “I’m going back to my place. We will stay here another half hour, and if nothing happens, I have other plans.”

“What?”

“I’ll tell you later.”

Jack crept back to his hiding place. With nothing else to do but to wait and watch he again became conscious of the darkness and of time dragging. There was utter stillness and he could hear himself breathe; the tick of his watch in his pocket sounded extraordinarily loud. He waited. A few pedestrians passed by. He waited some more. He counted every minute. When the time was up a low muffled whistle issued from his lips. He turned his head and saw Ken creep out of his place. Together they sneaked out of the yard and walked off. Ken asked, “Well, what are your other plans?”

“I was thinking,” said Jack, “that they must have another way of getting in and out—”

“Yes, you mentioned that once before.”

“Well, what I was really trying to determine is where that other entrance might be. Now, logically, it can be at any one of three places. There might be a tunnel leading away from the cellar of the house on either side or at the rear. What we have to do, therefore, is to examine those three possibilities.”

“But we can’t do much tonight,” remarked Ken. “For one thing it’s dark and there isn’t much we can see. And secondly, it’s late already.”

“That’s very true, but I certainly would like to get an idea of how the land lays.”

“We can leave that for tomorrow. Now I think we ought to go over and see if Paul is waiting for us.”

“That’s right. I almost forgot about him. I wonder if he came across anything.”

“Well, I only hope that he didn’t have to spend such a dull time as we did,” was Ken’s comment.

“You have to take things as they come,” answered Jack. “Sometimes there is plenty to do and at other times there is nothing to do.”