“Gone—it’s been stolen!” shouted Randy, almost overcome by the discovery. “Oh, I see it all. It was no doctor whom you saw.”
“But he said he was,” declared the landlady. “He said he was sent for. He even mentioned Mr. Randall’s name and—”
Randy did not wait to hear the rest of the sentence. He was out of the room, down the stairs, and out upon the street in a flash. The worst of fears appalled him.
“Those two men!” he faltered, gazing up and down the deserted street. “They must have followed me! They overheard me and one of them impersonated the doctor. They are gone and with them,—oh the fearful loss!—the great film!”
CHAPTER XXIII
“GETTING WARM”
It was well on towards midnight when Pep and Vic reached Brinton. There had been two changes to make and the village was asleep when they got off the cars at the little railroad depot. Its door was locked, they were the only passengers who had left the train and they stood looking about them in a cheerless, undecided way.
Brinton was decidedly a way-back, one-horse town. When they traced the only light visible to its source, the boys found that it hung over the doorway of a little restaurant. Across this there was a sign reading: “Hotel.”
They had to knock long and loud to arouse a frowsy appearing old man, who opened the door and viewed them with a sleepy and unfriendly eye.
“What do you want?” he challenged, holding the door open about two inches.
“A room, if you’ve got it,” was Pep’s prompt reply.