“Here’s a funny thing,” he said; “you know that house next door to the one where your friend vanished? Well, it burned down last night. The flames swept right through it from cellar to garret. Left nothing but the brick shell.”
This news did not particularly interest Tom. He had no idea that Jack had been left behind in the burning building by his captors and, therefore, had no reason to be concerned in the matter.
“It is an odd coincidence,” he said, in reply, as he passed on; “I’m glad we made sure that my cousin wasn’t in the place or I’d be worried.”
“Well, I hope you find him soon,” rejoined the other; “you can depend on it, that if he’s in Boston we’ll get a line on him somehow.”
Although Tom was by no means so sure of this, he thanked the bluecoat, and presently was seated in the Flying Road Racer once more with Mr. Bowler beside him.
“Too bad,” said the lawyer, “although I really hadn’t much expectation that we’d learn anything new. These men we are pitted against are much slicker and smarter than we thought.”
“Do you think that the red-bearded man and his companion are the principals in this thing?” asked Tom, as the machine moved off.
“No; they are simply the tools of a powerful syndicate in New York, composed of wealthy but unscrupulous men, who are far too cunning to undertake the actual rascality. The thing that is bothering me is—are they still in Boston or have they left with the stolen model?”
“And what bothers me,” said Tom, rather sharply, “is what has become of my chum?”
The lawyer looked at the boy beside him. When first he had met Jack and Tom, under circumstances of which we know, he had felt rather inclined to despise them for the way in which they had let the precious box slip out of their custody. He had undergone a change of feeling, though, since he had seen that both boys were as keen-witted and resourceful as their foes were unscrupulous and rascally.