“Cresville certainly is coming into public notice,” remarked Jerry in a low tone to Bob. “First it’s a robbery, then Noddy Nixon disappears.”
“Kidnapped you mean,” interposed Bob.
“No, I don’t,” said Jerry. “Noddy is no more stolen away than I am.”
By this time the chief had walked off down the street and Mr. Nixon went with him. The boys remained together.
“But what in the world—” began Bob, when Jerry stopped him with a wink, and made a slight motion of his head toward Andy. He need have no concern about Andy, as it developed, for that youth, all afire to continue his detective work, made a hasty excuse to the motor boys and hurried off down the street after the chief.
“What’s that you and Chunky were saying about Noddy?” asked Ned, who had not been listening very closely to what his friends were talking about.
“Jerry says Noddy was never kidnapped,” spoke Bob.
“I don’t believe he was,” put in Jerry. “I happened to get a glimpse of the note Mr. Nixon had. It was partly printed and partly written, but I’m a Dutchman if some of the handwriting wasn’t Noddy’s.”
“How do you happen to be so familiar with his handwriting?” asked Ned.
“I have a couple of specimens,” replied Jerry. He drew from his pocket some slips of paper. “One is that letter he wrote to us some time ago,” said Jerry, “when he accused us of being responsible for his running away from home the time he rode off in his father’s auto. The other is that bill he gave us for the fifteen dollars damage to the rowboat. I picked it up after Ned threw it at Noddy that Sunday.”