This was all the youth could tell, but it was something, and the chums returned to the hotel in a thoughtful mood.
“If that really was Laura, and if the girl in the car was Jessie, then that proves one thing,” remarked Dave. “They weren’t kidnapped anywhere between here and Crumville.”
“And that means that it did happen somewhere between here and Boston,” added Roger. “But, gracious, Dave! it’s a long way from here to that city!”
Neither of the young civil engineers felt in the humor for retiring early, so they passed into the reading-room of the hotel, to glance at one or two of the newspapers. Dave was perusing an article in reference to the disappearance of the girls, and Roger was deep in some news from Washington which affected his father, when both were startled by an exclamation made by some one who had stepped from the outside to a broad window which opened upon a veranda of the hotel.
“Who was that?” asked Roger, as he looked up just in time to see somebody disappearing from view.
“I don’t know, I’m sure,” answered Dave.
Struck by the peculiarity of the movement which had taken place, both walked over to the window and looked outside. Here all was in semi-darkness, the only light coming from the hotel and a small street lamp some distance away. They saw the figure of a young man hurrying down the street, and as the individual passed under the street light, he pulled up the collar of his coat and pulled down the soft hat he wore.
“Whoever he was, he got out in a mighty hurry,” was Roger’s comment.
To this Dave did not answer. He was wondering who the strange individual could be.