The Banner Boy Scouts Mystery. George A. Warren
What was the most reasonable thing to do, he tried to figure out. Should he notify the police? Should he run off and talk it over with Paul or Ken? Or should he do nothing and just follow. Unable to determine what would be his most reasonable action, he continued to follow the man and thought of nothing else.
A block before Main Street, he saw his man suddenly disappear into the side street. Becoming frantic at the thought of losing him, Jack sprinted up to the corner. He saw his man flattening out against the wall of the corner building. Jack hid behind a parked car. Was the man aware of being followed? Jack tried to think whether he had at any moment shown himself. His deliberations were cut short by the man stepping forth again and continuing on his way. Pursuer and pursued turned left on Main Street. The man increased his pace, stretching out his long legs. However, Jack had no difficulty in following. Clear across the town the two went, back to John Street into which the man turned. Jack hesitated for a second before crossing the street. There was something funny about being led back to this deserted street. Could it be possible that he was being led into a trap of some sort? Chucking his anxiety and doubt to the winds, he crossed the street to follow, but by then the man had disappeared. He walked up and down the street but the man did not return.
Jack returned to Main Street. “Whew!” He wiped the perspiration off his brow. That was some night, some chase, he thought to himself. The next moment he felt a pang of regret for having lost track of his man. However, it could not be helped and it would be useless to worry over it. Now that he had a pretty good picture of the individual—even though he had not seen the face—Jack felt certain that he would come upon him again. In the meanwhile he thought it best to go over and see Paul.
Paul and Ken were sitting on the steps of the porch. Side by side, in silence, each mused over his thoughts. Paul noticed someone approach the gate. The next moment he was on his feet and running to meet his chum. “Jack!” he cried, “where have you been?”
Ken also ran up. “Hey!” he spoke harshly, “you had us in stitches. What is the idea of disappearing like that and where have you been?”
Jack smiled. “I am sorry I had you fellows worried,” he said. “But wait until I tell you what happened to me.”
“What?” demanded Paul impatiently.
“Let’s sit down first; I’m tired.”
The boys sat down at the rear of the porch, so as not to be disturbed. Jack told his story and Paul and Ken listened gravely, interrupting every once in a while for some detailed information. They sat so closely together, listened so attentively to the narrative, that an outsider seeing them would have taken them for conspirators. In a sense they were that: they were conspiring on how to capture and rid the neighborhood of a maniac. When Jack had at last concluded, Ken let out a long whistle. Paul whispered, “That proves all my suspicions.”
“Wait a minute,” said Ken. “Let’s re-consider the whole situation. Both of you seem to have the impression that the man is a maniac, crazy. But how do you know that he didn’t contrive the whole thing just to put on a show for Jack’s sake? How do you know what the man was up to? He might have realized that he was being followed and to mislead Jack, he performed a mighty interesting show. We don’t know whether this man is guilty of burning down that house and before we are sure of it, let’s not pass judgement.”
There was silence. Those statements provided plenty of food for thought and all three of them knitted their brows. Paul said, “What you say is true, Ken. Of course, we must not pass judgement hastily. However, somehow I feel that my suspicions are correct.”
Jack nodded. “I feel the same way about it,” he offered as his opinion.
“At any rate,” argued Ken, “let’s wait and see. You say that you would recognize him if you saw him again—”
“Absolutely,” asserted Jack interrupting. “I could pick him out of a million men.”
“Very well, then. In that case, we will watch out for him. In the meanwhile, I suggest that the first thing tomorrow morning we go over to Water Street and examine the place. Perhaps we will find some sort of clue, his footprints if nothing else.”
“It’s too bad we can’t go there tonight,” said Jack.
“No. For one thing, it is too late. And secondly if someone noticed us there tonight, we would be under suspicion. And that would make everything perfect.”
“That’s settled, then,” remarked Ken as he rose. “I am going home. Coming, Jack?”
“Yes. Goodnight, Paul.”
“Goodnight. See you fellows tomorrow morning.”
“Righto!”
CHAPTER VI
The following morning, immediately after breakfast, the three boys met and set off for Water Street. At the scene of the fire, Jack pointed out the approximate spot where the man had sat and wept. Searching for footprints, they found many, most of them indistinct and smudged. They continued their search for other possible clues but found none. In the midst of their searchings, however, Paul looking up thought he saw a flitting shadow duck behind a fence across the street. Making believe that he saw nothing, he bent over and continued his investigations; however, he had his eyes glued to the spot. And sure enough, he saw a head protrude. He was amazed. Was it possible that someone was spying on them? Was it possible that the person Jack had followed the evening before had now turned around and was following them?
He called the two boys over. Pretending that he was explaining to them the outline of a footprint, he told them in a few words, of his discovery. “Don’t look now,” he warned his friends; “and don’t both look at the same time.”
Ken joked, saying, “I hope this thing hasn’t got you so that you are beginning to see things.”
“Don’t be funny,” remarked Paul seriously. “Suppose you fellows move off now. Keep an eye on the spot I pointed out to you and don’t give yourselves away.”
The boys separated and pretended to be absorbed in their investigations. They kept this up for about five minutes and then Paul called them and they walked away. “Well?” he asked anxiously.
Jack nodded. “You are right,” he whispered. “I also saw the head protruding from behind the fence watching us.”
“What about you, Ken? Did you see anything?”
He shook his head. “I’m sorry,” he said, “but I am not as eagle-eyed as you two. I saw nothing suspicious.”
“But I saw him watching us several times,” insisted Paul.
“I saw him only once,” added Jack.
“Well, you two may be right and I wrong,” commented the third companion.
“Who do you think it could be?” asked Jack. “And what do you think his purpose is?”
“How should I know?”
“Do you think it is that man I followed last night?”
Paul hesitated for a moment then shook his head. “No, and I will tell you why. The person you followed last night was tall and gaunt. This individual appeared to me to be about average height and robust. I could tell that from the shadow.”
“Shall I turn around and see if we are being followed?” asked Ken.
“No, don’t do that,” warned Paul. “He might catch on that we know we are being followed. I have a better plan.”
“What?”
“When we get to Main Street, you, Ken, will turn right, wave to us, make believe as though you are saying goodbye. Jack and I will turn left and pretend that we are going home. But instead of actually walking off, Ken, you will dash into a doorway and watch to see if anyone is following us.”
“And if there is?” asked Ken.
“Then you will follow him, naturally,” was Paul’s answer.
“And if there is not?”
“Then