"Do you suppose he turned back because he saw you?" asked Ned.
"He said he had forgotten some papers," observed Fenn.
"Yes, and he said he must have left them on the bank where we ate lunch," responded Bart. "But did either of you observe him have any papers in his hands? I guess not. He didn't look at a single paper from the time we started. That was only an excuse."
"It's a queer mystery," remarked Bart, looking at Frank. "Can we help solve it?"
"I'm afraid not," Frank replied with a smile. "But come on, it's getting late."
"Perhaps we ought to stay and see if Mr. Hardman will come back," suggested Fenn. "He may get lost in the woods."
"I guess not," was Bart's opinion. "I think he knows these woods as well as we do."
"Then what was his object in having us show him the road?"
"Part of the general mystery," said Bart. "It's too deep for me. If Frank knows it, why perhaps he'll tell."
"I wish I could," their chum answered, and the boys noticed that he was quite solemn. "It's something that concerns me personally, and I am not in a position, yet, to tell any one. I have only suspicions to go on, and it would not be fair to tell them to any one, until I see how near the truth I am. I admit I must seem to be acting strangely, but I can't help it. I wish I had caught that man. I believe he holds the secret I wish to solve. Where did you meet him?"
Bart told the circumstances connected with taking Mr. Hardman to the woods, and of his curious questions.
"Tell me over again that one he asked about sick persons finding their way through the woods," Frank asked, and Bart repeated it. Frank seemed to ponder over it.
"I think I'll try to see him at the hotel," Frank remarked a little later. "He may come back tonight. If he does, and I can get any clues to what I want, I may have something to tell you."
"I think we can give you a piece of news now," Ned put in. "We have been keeping it a secret, thinking the time would come when you could make use of it. Well that time seems to have come now."
Then he related what had taken place the night he was kidnapped by the Upside Down Club, and detailed the conversation of the two men in the vacant house.
"Are you sure about this?" asked Frank. "Are you sure they spoke about my uncle, and property and a sanitarium?"
"Positive," replied Ned. "Why?"
"It all fits in!" exclaimed Frank. "It bears out my theory. Now, if I could only find the place, I would have something to work on. Perhaps you fellows could help me!"
"We sure will, and you can depend on us!" cried Ned heartily.
"Thanks," replied Frank simply, but there was much meaning in the little word. "I may call on you sooner than I thought I could."
"Can't do it too soon for us," Bart made answer. "We want to get this thing cleared up. It's worrying you, Frank; isn't it fellows?"
"Yes, it is," admitted their chum. "It is worrying me and I want the secret cleared up, but I have to go slow. There are a number of persons involved, and I have to feel my way. The time may come when you will think I have done wrong, but when it is all explained you will say I'm right."
Frank's talk, his refusal to explain what he meant, and the strange scene, in which he and Mr. Hardman figured, was a great mystery to the three chums, but they felt they had no right to press Frank for an explanation. They could only wait until he told them what it all meant.
It was now getting dusk, and, deciding it was no use to wait for Mr. Hardman, the boys hurried back to Darewell. The first thing Frank did was to call at the hotel to make some inquiries regarding Mr. Hardman. But, beyond the fact that he was registered there as coming from New York, and that he seemed to have plenty of money, nothing could be learned. The man was not in, the clerk said, and was in the habit of going off and staying a day or two at a time. He had been at the hotel a little over a week, but seemed to have no acquaintances except Sandy, Jim and the three chums, if they could be so classed.
"Any luck?" asked Ned, as Frank stopped at his house that night, on his way back from the hotel.
"No, none," was the reply in hopeless tones. "But I'm going there again to-morrow. He may stay in, because it's Sunday, and I can get a chance to talk to him."
"Better not let him know you want to speak to him," suggested Ned. "If you do he'll make some excuse and slip out."
"I'll not send up my name when I inquire at the desk," Frank answered.
But his precautions were useless, for, when he called at the hotel the next morning, he learned that Mr. Hardman had come in at midnight, had paid his bill, and departed on the one o'clock train.
"Did he say where he was going?" asked Frank of the clerk.
"I don't know. The night man was on, but we don't generally ask our guests where they are going."
"I thought he might have left word where he wanted his mail forwarded."
"That's so, I believe he did," the clerk answered, for he knew Frank quite well. He looked in the letter rack, and found a slip the night clerk had left, directing that all mail for Mr. Hardman was to be sent to the general delivery, Lockport.
"Lockport," murmured Frank, as he left the hotel. "That is a town close to the other edge of the woods. I wonder what he can be doing there? Very well, if he's in Lockport I'll go there, but I'm afraid I'll have trouble finding him. However, I must try. He's likely to stop at a hotel, and there can't be more than two or three in Lockport."
Somewhat discouraged over his failure to find Mr. Hardman, Frank went back to his uncle's house. All that Sunday he remained indoors, though his chums called in the afternoon, and wanted him to go for a walk.
"Don't have any hard feelings," Frank said, when he declined the invitation. "I'm in no mood for walking or talking. I'll feel better tomorrow."
Then he went back to his room, to brood over his secret. He debated with himself whether or not he ought to tell his uncle what he had seen and heard, and ask for an explanation of the matter.
But Mr. Dent was rather a stern man, and, though he was very kind to Frank, he did not encourage confidences. So, after thinking it all over, Frank decided he would try, a little longer, to solve the mystery by his own efforts. He did not want to appeal to his uncle and be met with a refusal.
"I tell you what it is," Ned remarked, as the three chums walked away from Frank's house. "We've got to do something to cheer Frank up."
"What would you suggest?" asked Fenn.
"Let's have some sort of fun," replied Ned. "I've got an idea!" he exclaimed suddenly. "It will be a great joke! We'll play it on Jim Morton."
"Jim's too lazy to play jokes on," said Fenn.
"This is going to be a lazy joke," explained Ned.
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