“We’ll have to ride back somehow,” said Don, as they talked it over. “If we don’t the others will think that we were lost in the woods and will be anxious about us.”
“That’s true,” agreed Jim. “But this is an important clue.”
“Thanks to the station agent, yes. I was lucky to get the card away from him when I did, for I could see that he regretted it as soon as he had let it go. You can’t blame him. It came into his head that he could turn it over to the authorities and make something out of it when the colonel was found. I suppose he’s been working hard all his life and a little wealth would mean a new world to him.”
“Sure,” Jim nodded. “Well, if we learn anything important we’ll see to it that he gets what is coming to him. I’d like to see him get it.”
They came to the crossroads and found Blackberry Lane, a rutted road that ran back to the thick woods and came to an abrupt end there. A short way down the road they could see two old country estates, one of which was open and the other closed. They passed the first and walked into the yard of the deserted place. It was a large mansion in rather bad repair, with sagging porches and boarded-up windows. Weeds grew in the front and bushes in the back. They tried to see something from the front porch but failed, and they made their way around to the back. Here everything was boarded up.
“There is certainly no one in the place now,” observed Jim. “Mr. Morton Dennings may be a wealthy man, but he isn’t particular to show it up here.”
“Somebody coming,” said Don, jerking his head toward the house next door.
A man was coming across the grass toward them, looking them over as he came. He seemed to be of the type between a retired businessman and a small farm owner, and the boys felt no alarm at his coming. He hastened up to them and spoke briskly.
“Well, boys,” he said, “are you looking for anyone? No one lives here now.”
“Is this the summer home of Mr. Dennings?” asked Don.