He listened idly for a few moments to the song of the care-free black boy up in the kitchen. That brought to mind the recent robbery of the pantry. Might this have something to do with the Utway case?
A great light suddenly burst upon Sherlock Jones. A convict might be badly in need of food. And an escaped fugitive might well serve as a secret accomplice——
A creaking noise near him in the darkness brought him to wide-awake alertness. Sherlock strained his ears, eager to catch any further sound. Absolute silence followed. For a few moments the boy stood motionless; then he softly tiptoed to the door, and flung it open. The Utway twins were in sight, strolling easily down toward their tents.
They had come from the trunk room! It had been their footsteps he had heard. But what was their business there? Had they hidden something? Perhaps the swag of some midnight burglary, something that might incriminate them surely and swiftly?
Yes, the trunk room was assuredly the key to all the problems that confronted the amateur sleuth. Without making a sound, he stepped to the door of the trunk room.
It was a foolish step for young Detective Jones to make. Yet, whatever his other failings, Sherlock could not be accused of lack of courage. He turned the knob and pushed cautiously inside.
At first he could see little; it was not until his eyes were accustomed to the dimness of the room that he made out a heap of food on the floor, piled high on a paper napkin. Food! For whom? For what? He allowed the door to swing behind him, and bent forward to look more closely. He was not aware of a shadowy body that crouched at his side, tense, ready to spring on him from behind a heap of stacked trunks.
Sherlock Jones did not have a chance to cry out. A muscular arm circled his throat with a choking clasp. A bit of cloth was rammed into his open mouth; wiry arms clutched his own with a grip like that of a steel trap. His wild struggles were of no avail. He fell to the floor of the room, borne down by a strength greater than his own. As he fell, he saw—or did he dream?—that he was caught in the power of a stranger whose face was invisible, but on whose arm was tattooed the design of a flying eagle.
CHAPTER XIV
SO LONG, LENAPE!
It was past ten o’clock that night when Jerry and Jake Utway tapped softly on the door of the trunk room. The door opened a crack.