"Somehow, I don't think much of that detective," he thought, as he sped along. "He may be all right, and I suppose he is, but he hasn't got enough snap in him to suit me."
Jack's adverse opinion of Sharp was increased tenfold, when he returned the following night and reported that he had been unable to find a single clue. "By the way," he said, "I tried to find those Jenkins boys to see if I could get anything out of them, but they left town on the early train yesterday, and no one seems to know where they have gone."
It was late the next afternoon. Sharp had gone off early in the morning, saying that he would probably be back that night. Jack had spent the forenoon on the lake with his mother and the girls, trying to cheer them up. Mrs. Golden was rapidly giving away under the strain, while Edna's eyes were constantly red and swollen from crying. Mr. Golden had gone to his office that morning, but had returned on the twelve o'clock car, and they had met him at the wharf and taken him over in the Sprite. It was about four o'clock, and they were till on the porch, talking as usual about the missing boy.
"Say, dad, I don't think much of that detective fellow," Jack was saying, when the phone rang sharply, and he ran into the house to answer it. A moment later he shouted, "Dad, you're wanted on the long distance." Mr. Golden came in quickly and took the receiver.
"Is this Mr. Golden of Skowhegan?" came over the wire.
"Yes."
"This is the police station at Brunswick. A boy has just come in here with a note, which he says he found in the street. It's so covered with dirt, that it's pretty hard to read, but listen and I'll read what we've made out. Can you hear?"
"Yes, yes, go ahead, I can hear all right."
The voice then read the note, which Bob had dropped the night before. As Bob had thought, it didn't tell them much, but it let them know that he was alive and well, and that helped some and made them feel a little better. After Mr. Golden had finished telling them what he had heard, Jack said nothing for some moments, but sat thinking deeply. Suddenly, he looked up. "Dad," he said, "I want you to let me go to Boston. Bob's there, and I might be able to find him."
"Why, my dear boy, what could you do in Boston. It is a big city," spoke up Mrs. Golden, "and you don't know where they have taken him. Besides," she added sadly, "they might get you too."