“Maybe we’d better notify the police,” suggested Ned.
“No,” declared Bart. “We’ve gotten along so far without their help, and we’ll work this out alone. Besides, the minute we notify the police we’ll have to explain why we didn’t tell about the man before, and that won’t do. No, we’ll keep mum. Let’s look a little farther.”
They continued on down the main street, with short excursions into alleys and side thoroughfares, but all to no purpose. No trace of the man was to be seen, and they returned home tired from their run, and somewhat discouraged.
The chums said nothing to their folks of their experience at the gallery, though Bart’s fame as a shot spread among his school companions, and there was some speculation as to who the stranger might have been.
“Whoever he was, he’s almost as good a shot as you are, Bart,” remarked Sandy Merton. “You ought to arrange for a return match with him.”
“Perhaps I would—if I could find him,” agreed Bart.
“That’s so he did go out rather suddenly,” went on Sandy. “Do you know who he was?”
“No, I wish I did,” murmured Bart, and then he changed the subject, fearing Sandy might ask leading questions.
The police had practically given up looking for the diamond bracelet, and Professor Long made no further references to it, though it was easy to see by his manner that he had not forgotten it. An undefinable air of suspicion hung over the four chums, though Fenn, from the fact that he had not entered the school, was, more or less, exempt. But he would not have it so.