Part 23 (1/2)
”That's the talk!” exclaimed Roger. ”Say! but this is the worst yet, isn't it?” He turned to the lady of the house. ”I am awfully sorry for you, Mrs. Ba.s.swood.”
”I guess we are all sorry,” broke in our hero, quickly.
”Oh, I hope they catch that Porton and put him in prison!” cried Jessie.
”That is where he belongs,” answered Dave, soberly.
CHAPTER XVII
A VAIN SEARCH
To find out what Mr. Wadsworth, as well as Dave's father and his uncle, had done, Ben accompanied the other young folks to the jewelry manufacturer's mansion. They found that Mr. Wadsworth had gone to business, but the other men were present and were much interested in what Dave and his chums had to relate.
”We've done all we could to get the authorities on the trail of Ward Porton,” announced Dave's father; ”but we have been much hindered on account of this awful blizzard. The telegraph and telephone wires are down in all directions, so it has been practically impossible to send word any great distance.”
”With such a storm it may be possible that Porton and his confederate are still in Crumville,” suggested Roger.
”I hardly think that,” said Dunston Porter. ”More than likely they did everything they could to put distance between themselves and this town after they got their hands on the miniatures.”
”I suppose you know we found out that Porton's confederate managed to get a horse and cutter from Bryson's livery stable,” said Dave's father.
”No, we didn't know that!” cried Ben.
”Well, it's true. The confederate, who gave his name as Frank Carson, said he wanted the turnout to go for a doctor. He said he had been sent by Mr. Jamison, the minister. Of course, it was all a trick and Mr. Jamison knew absolutely nothing about it.”
”Did they return the horse and cutter?”
”They did not. And Bryson is mourning the loss of a good horse. The cutter he says did not amount to so much. He would not have let the animal go out, only the fellow begged so hard, stating that it was practically a case of life or death--and he offered to pay double money for the horse's use.”
”Were they seen at all?” questioned Ben.
”Oh, yes! A number of people who were stormbound saw them pa.s.s down the street and stop at your house. Then others saw the cutter turn in the direction of Hacklebury.”
”Of course you tried to follow?” queried Dave.
”I did that,” answered Dunston Porter. ”It was tough work getting through as far as the mill town. But I managed it, and made all sorts of inquiries. Two people had seen the cutter pa.s.s the mills, but no one could give me any definite information as to which way it headed after that. You see, it was growing dark by that time, and the snow was coming down so thickly that it was next to impossible to see any great distance in any direction.”
”Well, we know they went as far as Hacklebury, and that's something,”
returned Phil hopefully.
”Yes, but it isn't much,” came in a rather hopeless tone from Ben.
”I'm afraid they've got away and we'll never see them again, or the miniatures either.”
”Oh, don't say that, Ben!” cried Laura, sympathetically. ”Pictures, you know, are not like money. Porton and that rascal with him will have no easy time disposing of the miniatures.”
”I'll tell you what they may do!” burst out Jessie, suddenly. ”They may go to some big city and then send you word that they will return the miniatures provided you will pay them a certain amount of money for so doing.”
”Say! I believe that's just what they will do!” cried Dave. ”Jessie, I think you've struck the nail right on the head!” and he looked at the girl admiringly.