Off the bicycle he sprang, and back to the bridge he rushed. He walked out on the stringer and looked down at the bicycle beneath the water. From some timbers fluttered a strip of cloth. He looked down the stream, and in an eddy he could see a hat floating round and round. Then he hurried to the bank, made his way down the river, secured a long stick and drew the hat in.
“It’s Flynn’s!” he said, before his hand touched it. “He did not escape going into the river, and he must have struck with terrible force against some of these broken timbers. It’s two to one he’s drowned.”
Securing the hat, he found the name of a Boston dealer inside, and there was no longer a doubt in his mind but it had belonged to Parker Flynn.
There was a patter of rain on the leaves and a distant roar that told of the coming downpour. At a distance up the river was an old mill, and toward this Merry hurried. He reached it just as the storm broke in all its fury.
For an hour the rain came down in torrents, the lightning blazed and the thunder shook the earth. When it was all over, Frank started out to find Flynn.
He did not find the man. After searching till late in the afternoon, he secured the aid of a number of farmers. At nightfall they had found nothing. Some of them were certain the body of the man would be recovered from a pond into which the river ran about a mile below the broken bridge, but night brought an end to the search.
Nearly forty-eight hours later Frank rode back into Belfast. His disappearance and prolonged absence had caused great wonder and excitement, and his return was hailed with satisfaction. He went straight to the rooms of the Belfast Wheelmen and found Diamond there.
Frank told the story of his pursuit, and expressed regret at being forced to say that neither Flynn alive nor his body had been found, but the farmers who had assisted in the search were confident that, in time, the body would be recovered from the pond.
He asked anxiously for Hodge.