They had disembarked at the point dock and when the boat pulled off went to the hotel there to await the return of their friends.
“Now, Mr. Newcomb, perhaps you can explain what it’s all about,” suggested the lawyer to the constable, when they sat on deck together, near Neale at the steering wheel. The lawyer made the boy a signal to say nothing, but to listen.
“Well, this is what it’s about,” was the answer. “As I told you, a parcel of tramps—Klondikers they call themselves because, I understand, some of ’em have been in Alaska. Anyhow a parcel of tramps are living on Cedar Island. They’ve been robbing right and left, and the folks around here are tired of it. So a complaint was made and I’ve got a lot of warrants to arrest the men.”
“Do you know any of their names?” asked the lawyer.
“No, all the warrants are made out in the name of John Doe. That’s legal, you know.”
“Yes, I know,” assented Mr. Howbridge. “And how many do you expect to arrest?”
“Oh, about half a dozen. Two of ’em have a motor boat, I understand, but they had an accident in the storm last night and can’t navigate. That’s the reason we’re going over there now—they can’t get away!”
“Good!” exclaimed Mr. Howbridge. “I fancy, Mr. Newcomb, I may be able to add another complaint to the ones you already have, if two of the men turn out to be the characters we suspect.”
“Why, have they been robbing your hen roost, too?” asked the constable.
“No, but two of my wards, Ruth and Agnes Kenway, were robbed of a box of jewelry just before we started on this trip,” said the lawyer. “Two rough men held them up in a hallway on a rainy morning and snatched a jewel box. The men were tramps—and the day before that two men who called themselves Klondikers had looked at vacant rooms in the house where the robbery occurred. Since then the girls think they have seen the same tramps several times. I hope you can round them up.”