Since his visit to the landing field, Johnny had been more convinced than ever that the presence of that airplane above Hillcrest baseball grounds on that day when the mysterious “Prince” had somehow been forced from the mound, had meant something very strange.
“Up to something, that’s what they were!” he had told himself. “And I’m going to find out what.”
Recalling Goggles’ suggestion regarding the manner in which these men might be found, he hunted him up on the following day.
“Found out anything?” he asked.
“No, but I’m going to,” Goggles replied. “It should not be hard. They live here. They’re strangers in town. They’d rent furnished rooms. All we have to do is to check up on rentals.”
They had checked up and they had, they believed, found the very place they were looking for. The description of the two men who had rented a small furnished bungalow tallied with that of the men they sought.
There was only one hitch—the men had checked out of the bungalow.
“That’s too bad!” Johnny had mourned. “I hoped to catch up with them. It’s not so much what they’ve done as what they may do. It’s my theory that they have a grudge of some sort against the ‘Prince.’ He’s got to pitch some more games for us if we are to win. Those men will do something more, perhaps something a great deal worse.”
“What will we do if we find them?” Goggles had asked. “You can’t prove anything.”
“Proof is what we want.”