“You think so! He’ll turn up in jail, and you and I shall too, if we don’t mind. He’s been trapped and spirited away—by detectives, sent up here on purpose.”
“What! Oh, nonsense! You’re daft about the boy. Many another young fellow’s gone off and disappeared, to turn up with nothing worse than a splitting head and somewhat damaged morals. You yourself, for instance, when you were not much older than he——”
“Never mind about that,” interrupted Steve; “wait until I tell you all, and you’ll see. I’m not given to being scary, I think.”
He went on to tell of Rupert’s falling in with the men at the station, and of his disappearance, including all that his friends had learned of him both before and after he left. The man gave a low whistle of amazement and dismay.
“The little fool! What makes you think they were detectives?” He was groping for a shred of encouragement.
“I know it,” said Steve; and he gave his reasons.
Ruth was astonished to see how closely his reasoning followed and unravelled the facts as she knew them.
“Well, where is he now? Back in the city?”
“No. They haven’t got him there yet. They have hid him somewhere and are keeping him drunk, and will try taking him off by night.”
“Well, what are you going to do?”