“The same kind of message,” Brandon affirmed. “I have taken it for granted that the owner of the strange voice is a confederate of Cassey’s.”
“Maybe one of the fellows who was with him in the woods,” said Jimmy, and Mr. Brandon nodded gravely.
“It’s possible,” he said. “I don’t know, of course, but I imagine that there are several in Cassey’s gang.”
By this time they had reached Bob’s home, and as it was nearly lunch time, Mrs. Layton insisted that they all stay to lunch. The boys, not liking to make her trouble, said they would go home and come back later, but the lady of the house would have none of it.
“Sit down, all of you,” she commanded, in her cheerful, hospitable way. “I know you’re starved—all but Jimmy—” this last with a smile, “and there’s plenty to eat.”
Frank Brandon was very entertaining all during the meal and kept them in gales of laughter. Mrs. Layton found him as amusing as did the boys.
At last the lunch came to an end and Mr. Brandon professed himself ready to talk shop.
He was enthusiastic over the radio set the boys showed him and declared that he could see very little improvement to suggest.
“You surely have kept up with the march,” he said admiringly. “You have pretty nearly all the latest appliances, haven’t you? Good work, boys. Keep it up and you’ll be experts in earnest.”
“If we could only find some way to lengthen the life of our storage batteries,” said Bob, not without a pardonable touch of pride, “we wouldn’t have much to complain about. But that battery does puzzle us.”