"Me, too. Say! let's run over there."
"To Elmvale?"
"Yep. Pa's gone away——"
"So has my father," admitted Whistler.
"Well, neither of them can advise us, then," said Torry, practically. "How about talking with somebody in Elmvale? The manager of the munition works, for instance?"
"That's so! Mr. Santley. Say! let's 'phone him and see if he is at home."
"But you can't say anything over the telephone about Blake, or about us fellows thinking he is up to something wrong."
"We'll make an appointment with the manager," said Whistler, running into the Torrance house.
He knew where the telephone was, the girl at central quickly gave him the connection. A man answered the call.
"Is this Mr. Santley?" Whistler asked.