"And he is the man who said the bucket brigade was good enough," observed John Boll.
"I guess he's changed his mind," remarked Bert. "I'm going over to
Cole's barn," he added. "It's my night on duty."
Bert found Cole and several of his chums engaged in games of checkers and dominoes in the barn, which had been fitted up as much as possible like a fire-house. Bert greeted his chums, and then sat down, to await, with what patience he could, the promised arrival of Mort.
"I hope he comes," thought the boy. "I'd like to get at the bottom of this."
It was nearly nine o'clock when Mort looked in at the open door of the barn and nodded to Bert.
"I'll be back in a little while, boys," said the young chief, as he followed the stenographer outside. There was an oil lamp in the driveway leading to the street, and Bert, pausing under it, pulled out the queer slip of paper, and showed it to Mort.
"I thought maybe you might know something about this," he said.
"Where did you get it?"
"I picked it up right near where you saw me, under the window. Some one threw it out."
"So, that's why you were there, eh? I couldn't imagine. I thought you were trying to find out something about that house of mystery."