The little town of Paris stretches out for a considerable distance along Stoner Creek, and for this reason Shirley realized that the chances of picking the locality where Jimmy was held prisoner were slim. Nevertheless, there was always the chance that they might be fortunate enough to find the place.
The car rushed down Main Street, and turned to the right just off the bridge. It was Shirley’s plan to get to the extreme edge of the town and then come back along the creek slowly. They had made good time, and it was hardly probable that Jones could have reached the creek before them.
They reached the northern extremity of the town without a sight of Jones, and then turning the car about, Shirley drove south slowly. Several times the girl stopped to ask questions of pedestrians, but the result was always the same. No one seemed to know Jones, and none knew of any house containing a prisoner.
Finally Leonard called upon Shirley to stop.
“I’ll get out and do a little inquiring at some of the houses along here,” he said.
He alighted. At the first house he approached he gained no information, nor at the second nor at the third. At the fourth, however, he came upon a clue.
“Somebody told me,” said the woman who answered his knock, “that a closed carriage drove up to old Briggs’ house yesterday and that three men were in it. One went into the house with Briggs, and the others drove away.”
“Did you hear what he looked like?”
“Well, he was young. That’s all I know.”
“And where does this man Briggs live?”