a modest boy. But if it hadn’t been for you, the old folks and the child would have burned to cinders.”
“If I had not entered, one of the other boys would have,” he answered. “We were the first on the scene, you know.”
“Yes, so I understand. But what is it I can do for you boys?”
Paul leaned forward in his chair. “Captain Bob,” he said, “we came over to ask you your opinion on the origin of the fire.”
“Just what do you want to know?”
Paul hesitated, not knowing exactly how to put his question. He said, “What I want to know, Captain, is whether you think the fire was—er,—an accident, or whether you think someone started the fire.”
“You are asking very serious questions,” replied Captain, knitting his brows.
“Yes, I know, but I am very much interested and—”
“May I ask why you should be interested?” asked the old man shrewdly.
“It’s only because,—er,—when I dashed into the building, I noticed something very odd about the fire.”
“Just what do you mean?”
“Well, as we ran up to the house, we noticed smoke pouring out of the front door. I dashed inside by the back door and then I saw that most of the smoke and fire seemed to be at the threshold of the front door. Now that is very odd.”
“Yes, you are quite right, my boy,” answered Captain Bob. “As a matter of fact, the front door caved in first. However, I came to the fire a little too late to really judge the cause or origin of the fire. But it did seem to me that there was something odd about the whole thing.”
“Was there anything about the fire that would lead you to believe that it was an accident or perhaps—er,—otherwise?” asked Paul, pressing his point.
Captain Bob scratched his chin thoughtfully and said, “My dear boy, you are asking some very serious questions that may get you into trouble.”
Paul insisted. “Just the same, would you form an opinion?”
“No, I really couldn’t because, as I said before, I came to the fire too late. I had no chance to look into the cause of the fire and now that the house is a heap of ashes, the chances of finding any clue is very slight. Suppose you tell me your opinion, my boy.”
“To be quite frank, Captain, I think that the fire was started by some pyromaniac.”
The Captain sat up in his chair. “What makes you think so?” he demanded suddenly.
Paul hesitated. He did not want to give himself away. “Just a hunch,” he replied.
Captain Bob sank back into his chair. For what seemed a very long time there was absolute silence. The Captain seemed to be musing over something and the boys had nothing more to say. Paul rose and his friends did likewise. “Thank you, Captain Bob,” said Paul. “I guess we will be going now.”
Escorting them to the door, the Captain said, “Don’t thank me. I am glad you came.” He hesitated. “And,—er,—don’t you go around talking about a pyromaniac, my boy. It may get you into trouble.”
“I won’t, Captain,” promised Paul.
“Goodnight, boys.”
“Goodnight, Captain Bob.”
The boys walked along for some few steps in silence. Ken spoke up. “That talk with the captain didn’t help much, did it, Paul?”
“No, very little. But I have now become more convinced than ever that the fire was the work of a mentally distorted person.”
“You count me in on that,” added Jack. “I certainly agree with you. But what can we do about it, that is the problem.”
“Doesn’t seem as if we can do anything for the present,” muttered Ken.
“Guess you’re right,” answered Paul thoughtfully. A moment later he added, “Tomorrow let us try and obtain a better description of the man from your sister, Betty, Ken. If she can tell us a few things on how he looks and the sort of clothes he wears, that would help a lot.”
“It certainly would,” agreed Ken. “We will try it tomorrow.”
“Yes. In the meanwhile there is nothing else we can do tonight. So I am for going home,” announced Paul.
“Same here.”
“Me too.”
The boys separated and went home. The following morning, they met again at Ken’s home. Taking Betty out into the yard, the boys tried to get some information from her about the man who had taken her for a walk and then deserted her at the end of the town. But the child had already forgotten him entirely and their efforts were in vain.
CHAPTER IV
That afternoon, William went to the Stanhope Free Public Library to return a book. Walking in back of the room in search of a good novel, he came upon Paul hunched over a stack of newspapers. “What are you up to now, Paul?” he asked in a whisper.
“Tell you later.”
“A mystery, huh?” William joked.
Paul smiled and waved his friend away. “Leave me alone now,” he said, “I’ll tell you all about it later.”
“Very well.”
William walked away and Paul returned to his stack of newspapers. He spent almost three hours going through the papers of the past two months. Tired, he decided to stop there. Besides, he was quite satisfied with the information he had obtained. He left the library and walked home. On the way he stopped to call for Ken but did not find him in. Crossing the street to his own home he found Jack, Ken and William on the porch waiting for him. “Well, what is the secret?” cried William. “Tell us.”
Paul motioned to the boys to follow him and he led them to the garage where they would be assured of privacy. The boys found boxes on which to sit and they gathered around Paul. “Well, what is it?” asked Jack.
“I have spent about three hours in the library this afternoon,” Paul informed them “and—”
“William told us that already,” interrupted Ken.
“I have been going through the newspapers for the past weeks,” continued Paul.
“What for?” asked Jack.
“I was looking up the fire reports. In the past two months there have been four fires, one each two weeks or so.”
“What about it?” Jack wanted to know.
“Can’t you fellows see for yourselves?” asked Paul, irritated by their indifference. “Don’t you think that in a small town such as this, a fire every two weeks is very much above the average?”
“Say,” cried Ken, “you have hit upon something. Come to think of it, that is a pretty high average.”
“But
