The Eight-Oared Victors/Chapter 23
CHAPTER XXIII
TWO MISSING MEN
"Well, what do you know about that?"
"So that's where you sneaked off to when we went after the shell?"
"And that's why you didn't bake the cake?"
Tom's three chums gave expression to these sentiments as they looked over the bunch of pawn tickets he had brought away with him from the Mexican's shack. A hasty glance through them had shown Tom that none was for a brooch, and realizing that he could still keep Ruth's secret, he had decided to tell his friends the whole story. Which he did, keeping back only as much as was necessary not to let them know of Ruth's loss.
He related how he had overheard a "certain" conversation between Boswell and the Mexican, hurrying over that part of the story so they might not ask what the talk was about. Then he told of his own and Blasdell's visits to the shack.
"Say, this beats anything I ever heard of!" declared Frank.
"That's right, but what did the old beggar hide—if anything?" asked Sid.
"The pawn tickets, of course," declared Phil.
"I'm not sure of that, of course," spoke Tom. "I didn't see him, for I couldn't look out far enough from under the cot. But he was certainly on that side of the room. And he didn't hide the cups and jewelry, for they're in pawn, as these tickets show. So it must have been the tickets."
"Then if he had the tickets he took the stuff!" declared Sid.
"Not necessarily," objected Frank. "The Mexican and this Blasdell may be in partnership in crime. Either or both may have taken the jewelry, and Blasdell may have pawned it. Anyhow, I think this lets Boswell out, and I'm glad of it."
"So am I!" exclaimed Tom, and yet he wondered what the rich student and the Mexican could have in common, and he wondered about the old-fashioned brooch he had seen flashing in the sun, when the two talked in the boat. Also he wondered what Boswell wanted of another like it. In fact Tom was doing considerable wondering, and it was a puzzle in the solution of which he could not ask his chums' aid.
"So that's why you wanted us to go get the shell, and leave you here; is it?" asked Phil.
"Yes, I wanted time to investigate, and I didn't want you fellows to give me the ha-ha! if nothing came of it."
"But lots did come of it!" declared Frank. "We can clear ourselves of the faint suspicion that I believe Boxer Hall thinks hangs over us, and we can get them back their trophy cups, and the other people their jewelry."
"Yes, I suppose the pawnbroker can be made to give up stolen stuff," said Tom. He was puzzling his brains to think of some reason why Ruth's brooch was not pawned with the other things. Recalling the list of missing articles, given out when the jeweler offered the reward, it was seen that all were representd by the pawn tickets, save Ruth's trinket.
"They're made out in the name 'A. Smith,'" said Phil, as he scrutinized the bits of paper. "Might be a blacksmith for all you can tell—probably a fake name. And the pawnbroker's place is in Monroe," he went on, naming a town about twenty-five miles away.
"Well," spoke Tom, "I suppose the thing to do is to go there, see the police, get the stuff, and return it to the jeweler. Then he can do as he likes with it."
"Incidentally we'll collect the reward," declared Sid.
"We'll donate it to the new racing association!," suggested Frank. "Wouldn't it be a joke, if we did take that part of the reward offered by Boxer Hall, and use it to help beat them in the race!"
"Sort of adding insult to injury," suggested Tom. "But I'm thinking we ought to let the Boxer Hall lads know about these tickets, and that there's a prospect of them getting back their trophies."
There were two opinions about this. Tom and Sid were one side, while Frank and Phil held it would be better to first get the stuff and then let Boxer Hall know.
"'There's many a slip 'twixt the cup and the lip,' you know, Tom," said the Big Californian. "Not meaning a pun, either. But there may be some complications and it may take some time to get the stuff away from the pawnbroker. A delay would only fret all those who have lost things, and would be unpleasant for us. Get the stuff first, I say, and then hand it around."
And in the end this idea prevailed.
"Well, I can see where we get in precious little practice to-day," remarked Tom. "I think we'd all better go to Haddonfield and give these tickets to Mr. Farson. Let him get the police busy."
"All right, we're with you," said Phil. "But we need the practice, for it won't be long now before we're back at college."
"What about arresting Blasdell and the Mexican?" asked Sid.
"Let the jeweler attend to that," suggested Frank.
Without telling the girls of their discovery, the boys went to town in their launch, which, for a wonder, did not break down. Frank declared it was because he had put in a new set of batteries.
That Mr. Farson was astonished, is putting it mildly. He could not thank the boys enough. Privately, to Tom, who managed to get him a word in secret, the jeweler said he could not account for Ruth's pin not being represented by a ticket.
"But I'll look all through that pawnbroker's stock for it," he said. Mr. Farson decided that the would first go to Munroe and get the cups and jewelry, and later see about causing the arrest of the guilty person, or persons.
"The pawnbroker would have to identify the thief, anyhow," he explained. "Now you boys go back to the island and stay there. I'll hire an auto and go to Munroe. As soon as I get back I'll run over and let you know how I make out. Oh, this is good news for me!"
"What became of Blasdell after he jumped out of the shack, Tom?" asked Phil.
"How could I tell? I was under the cot."
"That's so. And he doesn't seem to be around these diggings any more. He just showed up with these pawn tickets, and then lit out again. And to think he was the fellow who had the stuff all the while!"
"He or Mendez," said Tom. "I'm not sure which. It's queer that Blasdell should come all the way back to hide the tickets in the shack. I heard him speak of getting something that belonged to him, but I don't know what it was."
They argued the matter, but could come to no agreement. Going back to their island camp, they found time for a little practice in the shell, Mr. Pierson coaching them. Then they waited impatiently for the return of the jeweler.
"I wonder what Mendez will think when he gets back and finds his place has been ransacked?" suggested Sid.
"He won't know it," declared Tom. "I was mighty careful, and Blasdell wasn't inside more than a few minutes. Let's take a stroll around there, and size it up."
"No, keep away," decided Frank. "It might make trouble. Let's wait until Mr. Farson comes."
It was nearly dusk when they saw a small launch approaching the island, and they recognized the jeweler as one of the occupants.
"He doesn't seem very joyous," remarked Tom. "He isn't waving his hat, or anything like that."
Somehow his words brought a feeling of doubt to his chums, yet they could not tell why. Nearer came the launch. It drew up to the little dock the boys had made.
"Well?" queried Tom, nervously. "How did you make out?"
"Not at all," was the surprising reply.
"What! Didn't you get the things?" demanded Phil.
"No. The pawnbroker closed out his place of business last week, and the store is vacant."
For a moment no one spoke. Then Frank said:
"But look here. You know a pawnbroker has to be licensed. He can't go out of busness that way. He may move, but he has to let people know about it. And he can't dispose of their things inside of a year, either. That man had no right to do that."
"I don't know about his rights," said the jeweler, "but the fact remains that he has skipped out. He may have taken the cups and jewelry with him for all I know. The police say he was a sort of 'fence' through which stolen property was often disposed of. He's been arrested several times, but nothing could be proved against him."
"What did you do?" asked Sid.
"The police in Munroe promised to try and trace him. I'm going to have circulars printed, too, and sent to other cities, asking for news of this pawnbroker."
"Say, this is tough, to almost get the stuff and then lose it!" remarked Phil. "It's a good thing we didn't tell the Boxer Hall lads."
"That's what," declared Tom.
"Fellows, I've got an idea!" exclaimed Sid.
"Chain it so it doesn't get away," advised Frank.
"I say let's go to that Mexican's shack, and see if we can get anything out of him," went on Sid. "We got on the trail there, and he must be mixed up in it some way. Come on, Mr. Farson, you've got a right to question him."
"I believe I will!" decided the jeweler, and he followed the lads toward the shack, through the lengthening shadows.
"I guess he isn't home," remarked Tom, as they saw no light in the place.
"Knock and see," suggested Phil. A tap on the door brought no response. Tom peered a bit closer.
"The place isn't closed," he exclaimed. He pushed open the door. Someone struck a match. Then came an exclamation of surprise from all.
For there was evidence that Mendez had hastily fled. The room was in confusion, things being scattered about, and a look into the store showed that everything he had had for sale had been removed. Mendez was missing, as was the pawnbroker and the jewelry.