Part 33 (1/2)
The question was put to the professor who replied briefly that he knew nothing whatsoever about Webb Nelson.
”I met him only two weeks ago,” he said. ”He claimed to be an expert at handling explosives, so I hired him.”
No one believed the professor was telling the truth. However, it was useless to question him further. Determined not to implicate himself, his wife, or his helper, he spoke as seldom as possible.
”The man has a room here,” Mr. Parker suggested. ”Suppose we see what we can find.”
Mrs. Leonard led the way upstairs. The professor's room was locked, but she opened it with a master key.
Two suitcases had been packed as if for a hasty departure and everything was in disorder. All garments had been removed from the closets. The sc.r.a.p basket was filled with torn letters which Mr. Parker promptly gathered together and placed in an envelope for future piecing together.
In one of the suitcases he found several newspaper clippings. One bore a picture of the professor, but the name beneath it was Claude Arkwright, and the story related that he was wanted in connection with a $10,000 hoax.
”Bettenridge is our man all right,” the publisher declared. ”We made no mistake in holding him for the sheriff.”
Penny had been searching the larger of the two suitcases which seemed to contain only clothing. But as she reached the lower layer, she suddenly gave a jubilant cry.
”Salt! Dad!” she exclaimed. ”It's here! See what I've found!”
CHAPTER 22 _SALT'S MISSING CAMERA_
From the suitcase, Penny lifted Salt's camera. With a cry of pleasure, he s.n.a.t.c.hed it from her hand and eagerly examined it.
”Is it damaged in any way?” Penny asked.
”It doesn't seem to be. So the professor had it all the time just as we thought!”
”And here are the plates I tossed into the car the night of the explosion!” Penny added, burrowing deeper into the pile of clothing.
”They're probably ruined by now.”
”Maybe not,” said Salt, examining them. ”The professor may have thought they were unexposed plates and kept them for use later on.”
”Anyway, it was crooked of him to try to keep the camera,” Penny declared. ”Though I suppose such a small theft doesn't amount to much in comparison to the trick he nearly played on Mr. Johnson.”
”It matters to me,” the photographer chuckled. ”Am I glad to get this camera back! The plates won't do us any good now they are outdated, but I'll take them along anyhow. I'm curious to see if they would have shown anything of significance.”
”By all means develop them,” urged Mr. Parker. ”Anything else in the suitcase?”
In a pocket of the case Penny found several letters from Mr. Johnson which she gave to her father. Knowing they would be valuable in establis.h.i.+ng a case of attempted fraud against the professor, he kept them.
”I wish Webb Nelson hadn't managed to escape,” Penny remarked as the trio went downstairs again. ”He must have started for Newhall, perhaps to catch a train.”
”Any due at this time?” her father asked thoughtfully.
”I wouldn't know.”
”Tell you what,” Mr. Parker proposed. ”We can do nothing more here. We may as well drive to the village again and press an inquiry for Webb.”
Once more the car with Salt as driver careened over the b.u.mpy country road to Newhall. They reached the town without sighting anyone who resembled the professor's helper.