Two days went by, and so far as the general public knew the affair of the hold-up had come to a standstill. The police authorities and one of the private detectives were working on such clues as they could pick up in and around Wall Street and among such professional hold-up men as could be rounded up, while two of the private detectives were following up all the clues vouchsafed by the Rovers concerning their various enemies.
“I’ve heard that you’ve had another enemy named Dan Baxter,” said one of the detectives to Dick. “What about him?”
“Dan Baxter reformed years ago and he has now quite a reputation as a successful traveling salesman. He has a son, Walter, who was a chum of our boys when all of them went to Colby Hall. I don’t think the Baxters had anything to do with this.”
“Well, we want to get all the leads we can,” was the detective’s reply.
From one of the police detectives the Rovers gained quite some information concerning the two bandits known as Lefty Ditini and Black Ronombo. These fellows, who had lived both in Mexico and in Havana, Cuba, were very crafty criminals and were wanted for a long chain of crimes both in the West Indies and Mexico, as well as in some of our Southern states, notably Louisiana and Texas.
“It’s only within the last year that these two rascals dared to come North and work in Philadelphia and New York,” explained the detective. “They’re both small and dark, and as hard boiled as bandits come.”
“Well, our bookkeeper says two of the men were small and dark,” answered Dick Rover; “so it’s just possible you are on the right track. If so, go to it, by all means, and round up these two rascals as quickly as you can.”
“I only wish I could!” was the reply, and the detective heaved something of a sigh. “There are rewards aggregating forty thousand dollars for the capture of Ronombo and rewards aggregating half that amount for the capture of Ditini. I wouldn’t like anything better than to capture that sixty thousand dollars!”
Mr. Stevenson had returned from his fishing trip and he appeared at the offices of The Rover Company that afternoon. Only Sam Rover and his brother Tom were present. Dick having gone to one of the banks to see what could be done in the matter of extending a loan which would come due in a few weeks.
“This is an outrageous state of affairs!” said Ruth’s father, and his whole manner showed that he was in anything but an amiable frame of mind. He was having a great deal of trouble with the contractors who were laying out his estate at Dexter’s Corners and, more than this, his fishing trip had been unproductive of results.
“It is certainly exceedingly unfortunate,” answered Sam, as he offered the newcomer a chair.
“Where is Richard Rover?”
“He’s out on a little business. He’ll be back in about an hour.”
“I can’t understand why these offices were left completely unprotected and why so many securities were left where the bandits could lay their hands on them,” went on Mr. Stevenson, dropping into the chair and fanning himself with his straw hat. “I’ve read all the accounts in the newspapers. Somebody must have been grossly careless.”
“Well, it’s not the only hold-up that’s happened in New York lately,” answered Tom, nettled by the visitor’s manner. “Of course, if we had dreamed that we were going to have a visit from such bandits we would have been better prepared to meet them. It’s too bad, and no one can be more sorry about it than we are.”
“And then about that insurance! The idea of letting it lapse! Why, I never let an insurance policy lapse in my life!”
“That was the fault of one of our clerks. He did it either through carelessness or by design. Just now we’re inclined to think that it was done deliberately, for the sole purpose of injuring us.”
“Oh, say, Tom Rover, don’t put it off on one of the clerks. Those things ought to be attended to by one of the officers!” Mr. Stevenson mopped his brow with his handkerchief. “How is this hold-up going to leave the Company?” he went on abruptly.
In as few words as possible, Tom and Sam explained the situation and told their new stockholder what they had done and of the loans and extensions they were trying to obtain. While this was going on, Jack’s father came in and then the four men talked the matter over.
Presently Ruth’s father calmed down a little and showed that he was a little ashamed of the irritability he had first showed. However, he still insisted that the lapsing of the insurance policy on the securities was due to sheer neglect on the part of the officers of the company and intimated that it was up to them individually to make good any loss that was sustained thereby.
“We’re going to make the loss good if we possibly can, Mr. Stevenson,” said Jack’s father quietly. “It’s a heavy blow to us, but we hope to be able to weather it. Many of our old friends have come to us and assured us of their assistance, and that means a great deal.”
“Well, you can’t look to me for anything more,” returned Ruth’s father. “With my investment of fifty thousand dollars in this company and a further investment of a like amount in that estate up at Dexter’s Corners, I’m about as deep in financially as I want to go. Even as it is, if this loss down here isn’t made good I don’t know whether I’ll be able to finish the house up there or not.” And a little later Mr. Stevenson took his departure, declining Dick’s offer to take him up to the house for dinner.
“He’s sore—no two ways about that!” was Tom’s comment after the visitor had gone. “He’s as sore as a boil.”
“Well, you can’t altogether blame him, Tom,” answered Dick. “If we go to the wall he stands to lose fifty thousand dollars, one-half of which belongs to his wife. And, as he says, he may have to sacrifice some of the money he’s already put into the estate in the country.”
“Just the same, I thought he’d be a little better sport,” was Sam’s comment.
That evening Jack heard that Ruth’s father was in New York and had called at the offices. When he heard from his father and his uncles of what Ruth’s parent had said he was more disturbed than ever.
“If he doesn’t get his money back he’ll never forgive us,” Jack told himself. He had not forgotten how Mr. Stevenson had acted towards his relative, Barnard Stevenson, on Snowshoe Island when the boys were there for a winter outing. Then he thought of how Ruth and her mother had acted and his heart grew heavier than ever.
That night one of the detectives called at Dick Rover’s home with news that was decidedly interesting. He and one of his men had gotten on the trail of some men who had been found acting suspiciously on the Ten Brooks Road above the city on the evening of the day that the offices had been looted. From an old woman who lived on the road near a dense woods they learned that these men had been seen leaving one automobile and getting into another. The old woman had said that one of the men carried a square japanned box and that another had a similar box which was striped red.
“A box striped red!” exclaimed Dick Rover. “Did she say how large the box was?”
“Yes; it was about two feet long, four or five inches high, and four or five inches wide. The old woman thought it had a small brass lock at one end.”
“Then this may be a real clue!” exclaimed Jack’s father. “Because one of our new stockholders, Mr. Stevenson, brought his securities in a black box of that size which was striped red at either end. He left the box with us, and this was missing, along with one of our black boxes, after the hold-up.”
“Then those rascals were undoubtedly either the bandits or in cahoots with them,” said the detective.
“Did the old woman tell you anything else or did you find any other clues around the car?” questioned Dick Rover.
“Nothing of any consequence. We had the car jacked up and mended sufficiently to run it to a garage a few miles away, and there it now stands.”
When the boys heard of these new clues all were anxious to see the car that had been abandoned in the woods.
“I remember the old auto the Martells had when Nappy went to school, and I remember the car Slugger Brown’s folks used,” said Randy.
“And I remember those cars too,” answered Fred. “What do you say to going up and inspecting the old bus?”
Getting out one of their own automobiles, the next morning the four boys made the run to Ten Brooks Road and to the garage where the old car was stored. They found the place in charge of an old man who gazed at them curiously as they entered.
“We came in to look over that car that was brought in from the woods,” explained Jack. “Mr. Lawson said we could inspect it.”
“There she is,” answered the old man, and pointed to a car resting in an adjoining shed.
The automobile was a two-seated open affair and had evidently seen hard service. Both the mudguards and the sides, as well as the rear, were dented and the cushions were torn in several places.
“Looks as if it had about come from the ark,” was Andy’s remark.
“An old model, but one with a fine engine,” returned Jack. “I’ll bet this old bus could make forty or fifty miles an hour easily.”
“Well, those hold-up men would probably want something that could make speed,” answered Fred.
The boys looked over the car with care, but for some time discovered nothing out of the ordinary about it. Then, however, Jack found in the pocket of one of the doors several sheets of paper, on one of which appeared a number of dots put down in the form of triangles.
“Hello! what do you know about this?” exclaimed the oldest Rover boy triumphantly.
“What is it, Jack?” came in a chorus from his cousins.
“I think I’ve got a clue!” was the reply. “See these dots placed in the form of triangles? Well, look around the car and see if you can find any more of them.”
Feeling sure that their cousin had discovered something of importance, the other boys made a minute inspection of the car, aided by Jack. Presently Fred pointed out a series of dots on the dashboard, evidently made with the point of a knife blade. These dots also were in the form of a triangle.
“And here’s another one on the top of the back door!” cried Randy. “Jack, what in the world does this mean?”
“Don’t you remember who used to make these dotted triangles?” questioned the oldest Rover boy. “Put on your thinking caps and go back to your school days at Colby Hall.”
All of the lads stared at him in wonder and then dropped their eyes and began to think deeply. Then suddenly one after another they set up a shout:
“Slugger Brown!”