"He has fallen in with Ab. Dexter or Driggs," whispered Dave to Dick when they were so far from Mr. Holmes that the latter could not overhear them.
"That's the way I feel about it," nodded young Prescott. "First, the affair of the bricks for mine; then the big stone that whizzed by within an inch of your head at night. And now Greg, the third of us to spoil the abduction plan, is mysteriously missing."
"There's some scoundrelly plan back of all three affairs," replied Dave Darrin with conviction. "Yet why should Dexter take all this trouble to punish boys?"
"First of all, because we interfered with him, and spoiled his bold stroke," guessed Dick Prescott. "Next, through hitting so mysteriously at us all, he probably hopes to scare Mrs. Dexter out of her life. If Dexter gets her thoroughly nervous and cowed probably she'll buy him off with a lot of her inherited money. That fellow Dexter would do anything on earth to escape the penalty of having to work for his living."
"The mean rascal!" was all Dave could mutter, and he said it with pent-up savagery.
Wherever a light showed along the country road the seekers after Greg knocked at doors. Invariably the answer was the same—no tidings.
It was after one o'clock Sunday morning when the Grammar School boys returned to their several homes, discouraged and heartsick.
Of course the "Blade" got wind of the affair and had Len Spencer and another reporter out working on the mystery.
The police, too, took a hand, though there was an absolute lack of clues upon which to work.
Broad daylight came Sunday morning, and still no Greg Holmes accounted for. Now, the police took a further hand by beginning to drag the river.