The Campers Out: or, The Right Path and the Wrong. Ellis Edward Sylvester

it helpful to swallow more lemonade and take an additional suck or two at one of the oranges pressed upon him.

      Chief Hungerford stood in the door of the room, hat in hand, and looked fixedly at the lad for a minute or two before speaking. Even then it was only in answer to the question of Mr. Wagstaff.

      “What have you found?”

      “Nothing special, sir; there have been so many people in the house tramping back and forth, that they have destroyed what clews we might have discovered. Then, too, the job was so easy that there was no need of leaving any traces.”

      “How was that?”

      “Why the doors were unlocked, so that they had only to open and enter without forcing a window or fastening anywhere. After they got inside they found you were kind enough to leave keys wherever they were needed, and consequently no violence was required up-stairs.”

      “But why did they fire those shots through the window down-stairs?”

      “That was to frighten away the servant.”

      “It seems a strange proceeding when the reports were sure to be heard and bring people here, while the servant herself was certain to raise the alarm. They might have bound and scared her into quiescence.”

      The chief of police had thought of all this before, and looked upon it as one of the peculiar features of the business; but he smiled, and said, in his off-hand fashion:

      “It may strike us both as a little odd, but the best proof of the wisdom of what the scamps did is the fact that they got off with the plunder and have not left the first clew behind. Well, good-evening all; I will report as soon as I pick up anything worth telling.”

      And courteously saluting the family he descended the stairs and passed out of the door. Before doing so he questioned the servant on what seemed unimportant points. Finally he entered the street and was obliged to answer the innumerable questions that were asked him at every turn. He had found it necessary to station a couple of his men on the premises to keep away the curious people, who persisted in crowding forward through the grounds and even into the house itself.

      The rumors on the streets did not astonish him, even though they were to the effect that Tommy (everybody called him “Tommy” since his mishap) had been strangled to death, his last breath leaving him just as he was caught in his mother’s arms, and that Maggie the servant had been attacked and badly wounded, but escaped by leaping from the second story window and running to the Town Hall, where the family were attending a concert.

      When the chief entered his private room he drew the handkerchief from his pocket, spread it out on his desk under a strong gaslight and carefully examined it.

      He had little hope of finding anything worth knowing, but he was too wise to neglect the least step. He carefully went over the somewhat soiled piece of linen and smiled to himself when he observed that a name was written in the corner in indelible ink.

      “Burglars aint apt to carry handkerchiefs around even with their initials written on them, but one of these gentry has been kind enough to give us his whole name. It is written so legibly, too, that I can read it without my glasses. Ah, ‘William Waylett!’ there it is as plain as print.

      “It strikes me,” continued the chief, following the train of thought, “that I’ve heard that name before. Jim Waylett was my classmate in college, and he has three daughters and one boy. The name of the youngster is William, generally called Billy. That chap is the owner of this handkerchief as sure as a gun.”

      By this time, as the reader will perceive, the sagacious officer was not only on the right trail, but advancing rapidly to the correct conclusion. He had not heard all of Tommy Wagstaff’s story before he began to grow suspicious. His experience enabled him to detect more than one inconsistency despite the skill of the tremendous falsifier who built up the structure.

      Investigation and further questioning confirmed this suspicion until, when he left the house, all doubt was gone. He knew that no man had visited the Wagstaff home that night or taken any part in the indignities to which Master Tommy was subjected.

      But it was equally clear that the young rogue had had partners in his shameless trick, and the chief meant to learn who they were.

      He was confident that he could find them out from Tommy himself, whom he could handle in such a way as to force a confession, but while the parents, especially the mother, were in such a state of excitement, they would be indignant at the first hint of the boy’s trickery, and would defeat what advantage he might gain if left alone with him.

      “They will come to it in the course of a few days,” reflected the officer, who had seen similar scenes before, “and it won’t do any harm to wait until then. I will get a chance at the boy before long, and, if I don’t force it out of him, then I’ll resign my office and take to the woods.”

      The chief was desirous also of sparing the feelings of the parents of the boy, whom he liked. They would feel much worse if compelled to admit the truth after first refusing to listen to his suggestion. Then, too, he had another boy to work upon. Billy Waylett must know something of the affair. At any rate, he could tell how it was his handkerchief came to be used to gag one of his playmates, and that little piece of information was likely to give him just the clew that was needed.

      “I’ll wait until things get cool,” concluded the chief, who happened to have other matters pressing upon his attention just then.

      Accordingly he gave his whole energies to the business which took him out of Ashton for a part of two days. When he returned it was with the resolve to take hold of the matter in earnest, but to his dismay, when he came to make inquiry, he was told that Tommy Wagstaff, Jimmy McGovern, and Billy Waylett had disappeared.

      CHAPTER IV – THE RUNAWAYS

      That fate which had seemed to favor the three audacious youngsters did not desert them when the critical point in their enterprise arrived.

      The chief of police was wise in restraining any hint of what was in his mind to the parents of Tommy Wagstaff. It would have been repelled with wrath and made them enemies – all the more bitter, perhaps, when it should appear that the wise officer was right.

      The youngster, having suffered so cruelly, received every compensation his friends could give him. His father reproved himself for making him stay home from the concert. Had he taken him with him, the outrage never could have occurred.

      The mother heaped favors upon her darling Tommy, who might have luxuriated for weeks on the general sympathy felt for him. He was visited by several newspaper reporters, who took down the thrilling account from his own lips. The chief trouble in these cases was the wide variance in the versions given by the lad. In some instances he insisted there were three burglars, in others only two, while to one young man in spectacles, he solemnly averred that there were seven by actual count, and that they were all armed with tomahawks and scalping knives. These wild statements were attributed to the lad’s nervousness instead of to the real cause.

      But on the next afternoon, or rather evening, Tommy did not make his appearance at supper. The mother was greatly frightened and believed the robbers had returned to revenge themselves upon her darling for telling the truth about them.

      Before the evening was late, Mr. Wagstaff learned that Tommy, accompanied by Billy Waylett and Jimmy McGovern, had been seen hurrying in the direction of the railway station. Inquiry there revealed the fact all three had bought tickets for New York.

      About this time a dim suspicion took shape in the mind of Mr. Wagstaff. He gave no hint to his wife, but he telegraphed the authorities in the metropolis to look out for three boys, and to arrest them at once and communicate with their parents, Messrs. Waylett and McGovern having joined in the request.

      New York was so near Ashton that the runaways arrived there more than an hour before the telegram was sent, otherwise they would have been returned to their homes the same evening.

      Their fathers next held a conference, and on the following day applied to the chief of police for counsel. That gentleman listened grimly to them, and then quietly said that the robbery of Mr. Wagstaff’s home had been