“I don’t know,” replied the other dubiously. “Guy hasn’t explained why this fellow should be so interested in him and your mother.”
“He might ’a’ been a pickpocket,” suggested Walter.
“Yes, but he didn’t get anything. And if he’s a confidence man, he didn’t try his game on them.”
“No, he didn’t,” Walter admitted slowly.
“You’d better give it up,” advised the wiseheaded Tony. “Even if the fellow was interested in Guy and your mother, it didn’t amount to much. He didn’t do anything, and they’re a long way from him now.”
“Oh, I was just worked up over the mystery,” Walter assured his friend. “I wasn’t afraid of anything serious.”
The mystery, however, would not leave his mind, and he grew impatient because of the persistence with which it haunted him. Next afternoon as the boys were on their way home from school again, Guy called a halt in front of the Chenoweth House, saying:
“Wait here a minute, Tony. I want to see the hotel clerk.”
Walter entered the hotel and was out of his friend’s sight a few minutes. When he returned, he said:
“I guess there’s nothing to it.”