They got immediate results with this. And on the day they took the camera down, a certain wealthy boy named Carter Wolf left school. The negative, when developed, showed that Carter Wolf was the guilty one. His startled face was turned toward the camera, whose click he had heard, and one hand was plainly seen opening a locker door. At first he denied the charges, but finally he had made good the losses in one way or another. Mac was lucky enough to get his ring back, but others found that their property had been sold to pay gambling debts that Wolf had contracted. Only the influence and pleading of his father had saved the boy from the punishment he richly deserved. For the time being he had disappeared from the community, but not until he had left a threat behind him.
“I’ll even scores with that Barry Garrison bunch,” he had promised.
With the identification of the mysterious sneak thief a wave of relief had swept over Cloverfield High School. The teachers and students were grateful to the four boys whose persistence had finally caught the prowler. The good-natured title of “mystery hunters” had been given them, and the boys knew that under it lay a genuine admiration for the piece of work that they had done.
“When you figure it all out,” Kent declared, as they stopped a moment before the brownstone house in which Barry lived, “there wasn’t much to it. Maybe there would be a different story if we ever ran up against a real mystery.”
“Mysteries are few and far between,” Tim said. “Let’s talk about something more vital. We’ll have about ten days of vacation at Christmas time. What’ll we do with it?”
“Eat popcorn and candy off the Christmas tree,” Mac grinned.
“Our tree won’t have enough on to keep us eating very long,” Tim answered. “Shall we do a little winter camping?”
“Either that or hunt some,” Barry agreed. “Let’s give it some thought in the next few days.”
The other boys went on down the street, while Barry turned in at the door of the brownstone house. Kent lived two doors beyond, and the twins lived around the corner in a big frame house. The Fords were not among the wealthiest people in the town, although Mr. Ford did have a fairly good business in dry goods. But they were a fine family, and Kent and Barry had been fond of the two lively boys since grammar-school days.
As Barry entered the hall, his sister Pearl was going up the stairs. In the library to the right of him he could see his father, seated under a lamp, reading a magazine. The rattling of a pan on the stove told him where his mother was.