Bob really outplayed himself, and several times, when he approached Della, Frank whispered to her that her brother was smitten and trying to “show 67 off” before the new girl. Della, well pleased, nodded agreement. Nevertheless, Frank and Della played their best, and the score stood at three-all when Jack hailed them from the sidelines with the information that, unless they preferred being late to dinner, it behooved them to quit playing and hasten indoors. Dinner at the Temples was served promptly at 7 o’clock, and never delayed. Accordingly, the game was broken up.
“Come along, Jack,” said Frank, linking an arm in that of his pal; “your father’s not at home, and we won’t let you dine in solitary splendor. You are coming to dinner with us.”
CHAPTER VIII
A CONSULTATION
“This man Higginbotham is not the chief figure in the liquor smuggling ring,” stated Captain Folsom emphatically.
Captain Folsom sat in the Temple library, with the boys grouped about him. The time was nearing ten o’clock. From the moment of his arrival, shortly after the hour of nine, he had been in conference with the boys, and they had explained to him in detail all that they had discovered or surmised about their neighbors of the old Brownell place.
An army officer with a distinguished record, who had lost his left arm in the Argonne, Captain Folsom upon recovery had been given a responsible post in the prohibition enforcement forces. His was a roving commission. He was not attached permanently to the New York office, but when violations of the law at the metropolis became so flagrant as to demand especial attention, he had been sent on from Washington to assume command of a special squad 69 of agents. Lieutenant Summers, U. S. N., in command of the submarine division known as the “Dry Fleet,” was operating in conjunction with him, he had told the boys.
Still a young man in his early thirties, he had a strong face, an athletic frame and a true grey eye, and had made a good impression on the boys.