“I know you will be interested to learn that we have at last heard from that rascal, Tim Crapsey, who, with Ward Porton, got the miniatures from my mother. Crapsey sent a very badly written letter to my father, stating that he and Porton had parted company, but that he had the most of the miniatures,––in fact, all but six of them.
“Crapsey wrote that he was in the city of New York, and had the miniatures in a safe place, and 235 that he would return them to us for fifteen thousand dollars. We were to insert a personal advertisement in one of the New York newspapers if we were willing to accept his offer, and then he would send us word how the exchange of money for the miniatures could be made.
“Of course, as you know, my father is still sick. He didn’t have anything like fifteen thousand dollars in cash to offer Crapsey, and besides that Mr. Wadsworth and your Uncle Dunston thought it was altogether too much money to offer a thief like that. In fact, your uncle was of the opinion that they should only try to lead Crapsey on, so that they could capture him. But my father, backed up by Mr. Wadsworth, at length agreed to put up five thousand dollars in order to get the miniatures back, and an advertisement was inserted in the newspapers to that effect.
“We waited two days for a reply, and then came a scrawl on a bit of paper signed by Crapsey, stating that he was having trouble of another kind and could not for the present keep on with his negotiations. After that my father inserted another advertisement asking for more information, but up to the present time no additional word has come in.
“My father does not know what to make of it. Your folks and Mr. Wadsworth are of the opinion that either Crapsey was trying to fool them and got scared or else that the rascal has been caught by the police for some other crime and is trying to conceal his identity. They are divided on the question as to whether to believe Crapsey when he wrote that he and Porton had parted company––they 236 are half inclined to believe that Porton is still with him, and that the whole scheme was framed up by Porton.”
“That is certainly interesting news,” remarked Roger, after both had perused the letter a second time. “And it settles one thing––and that is that Tim Crapsey must have been in New York with Ward Porton at the time we saw the latter.”
“Exactly, Roger. And it also proves beyond a doubt that that pair were really the thieves. Previous to this we only supposed such to be the fact––we really couldn’t prove it.”
“Oh, I was sure of it all along, Dave.”
“So was I, Roger. But you know in a court of law it is one thing to know a thing and another to be able to prove it.”
The two young civil engineers discussed the letter all through the evening meal and even for some time later. Then, however, Roger turned to his newspaper, to read with care the address that his father had delivered. Dave was also interested in this.
“I’d like to be in the Senate some time when your father was speaking,” he remarked to his chum. “It must be a great sight to see such a body as that when it is in session.”
“It is, Dave,” answered his chum. “And people come thousands of miles to see it.”
Before retiring for the night Dave penned a letter 237 to Ben, and also sent a letter to Jessie, and another to his Uncle Dunston which was meant for the entire household. Roger spent the time in a communication to his mother, and also in a long letter to Luke Watson.
The night proved to be unusually warm, for the breeze which was usually stirring had died down completely. Dave fell into a fitful doze, from which he awoke about midnight to find his mouth and throat quite parched.