“Not a sign of ’im!” replied Mrs. Higgins. “But what I can’t understand nohow is why the girls didn’t reach Silvertown by now. They escaped here Sunday night, perty early, too, I reckon!”
“By George, the old nut must have caught them again!” roared John, beside himself with rage. “Come on, we haven’t a moment to lose! Where’s this town you spoke of? Let’s go notify the police immediately.”
“And shall I leave the girls’ boat in the barn where the old man hid it?” she asked. “I found it yes’te’day.”
“Yes, we’ll send a truck down for it later,” said John. “We must be off now!”
Mrs. Higgins gave them directions how to reach Besley, and a description of the old man who seemed at the bottom of the affair. But although the constable at Besley remembered seeing the man, and the hotel-keeper showed them the name—Adam Jones—signed in a very shaky handwriting, he said he had not seen the old fellow for several days.
“He come over here a couple o’ nights fer dinner,” remarked the clerk. “But he didn’t have much to say—except to pass the time o’ day. Didn’t say nuthin’ about no runaway. I reckon he wanted to keep the reward fer hisself.”
“Well, if you see him, you just lock him up!” cried John, vehemently. “He’s nothing but a common kidnapper!”
“Easy now, young feller!” cautioned the constable. “The man may only be tryin’ to obey the law and earn an honest reward. There might be other Margaret Wilkinsons, besides your sister!”
“But my sister’s name is Marjorie!” contradicted Jack.
The constable shrugged his shoulders and turned away as if he did not attach much importance to the boys’ assertions; they probably had their facts wrong, he surmised.