“Of course you tried to follow?” queried Dave.
“I did that,” answered Dunston Porter. “It was tough work getting through as far as the mill town. But I managed it, and made all sorts of inquiries. Two people had seen the cutter pass 165 the mills, but no one could give me any definite information as to which way it headed after that. You see, it was growing dark by that time, and the snow was coming down so thickly that it was next to impossible to see any great distance in any direction.”
“Well, we know they went as far as Hacklebury, and that’s something,” returned Phil hopefully.
“Yes, but it isn’t much,” came in a rather hopeless tone from Ben. “I’m afraid they’ve got away and we’ll never see them again, or the miniatures either.”
“Oh, don’t say that, Ben!” cried Laura, sympathetically. “Pictures, you know, are not like money. Porton and that rascal with him will have no easy time disposing of the miniatures.”
“I’ll tell you what they may do!” burst out Jessie, suddenly. “They may go to some big city and then send you word that they will return the miniatures provided you will pay them a certain amount of money for so doing.”
“Say! I believe that’s just what they will do!” cried Dave. “Jessie, I think you’ve struck the nail right on the head!” and he looked at the girl admiringly.
“I hope they do that––if we don’t catch them,” returned Ben. “If those miniatures are worth anything like a hundred thousand dollars, I 166 guess my dad would be glad enough to give five or ten thousand dollars to get them back.”
“I wouldn’t give up the hunt yet, Ben,” urged Roger. “Just as soon as this awful storm is over I’d let the authorities in all the big cities, as well as the little ones, know about the theft, and then they can be on the watch for Porton and his confederate. By the way, I wonder who the confederate can be.”
“I’m sure I haven’t the least idea,” answered the real estate dealer’s son.