“But there may be two Professor Petersens—the name is not uncommon in Germany, at any rate.”
“There is no mistake,” declared Schmouder. “I admit there may be several Professor Petersens, but hardly two who would have nieces named Dorothy Gibbs and Gladys Petersen.”
“That seems to clinch it,” declared Bob.
“Yes, I guess so,” agreed his chum. “But what else can you tell us about them, Nick, and where are the girls now?”
The German prisoner shrugged his shoulders.
“As for where they are now, I do not know,” he answered. “My father and mother live in a little town not far from Metz. It was there Professor Petersen came sometimes to study and write his books, when he was not in his own country or in your country, lecturing or visiting Professor Snodgrass.
“Just before this terrible war, which I wish with all my heart I had never seen, Professor Petersen came to this little town, bringing for the first time his two nieces. I happened to be there on a visit—I came to see my parents, and now I wish I hadn’t.
“No, I will not say that!” quickly exclaimed the man. “I am glad I saw them; but I wish I had sent for them to come to the United States to see me. It would have been safer for them and me, for we shall lose this war—I can see that.” 164
“You said it!” declared Bob, with energy.
“Tell us all you can,” urged Ned. “We have a great interest in finding these girls.”