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Updated: June 17, 2025
The thought of Harry Hazelton's unknown fate caused a great, choking lump in his throat as Reade stepped from the pier to land. At the first blush of dawn Tom despatched the tireless Nicolas to Blixton to notify the police of the explosions and of the disappearance of Harry Hazelton. Two men in blue, wearing stars on their coats, came over within an hour, walked about and looked wise until noon.
"If the Illinois Central had built its tracks through to Blixton I probably would have arrived at a civilized hour," laughed Dick. "As it was, I had to come in on a wood-burning, backwoods road and the train was only five hours and a half behind schedule. Then, from a sleepy policeman I got directions that enabled me to find this place after an hour's hard work." To what effect?
That has scared the rascals away." "What are the detectives doing, anyway?" asked Harry. "Blessed if I know," Tom yawned. "I believe there are three of them here or over in Blixton, but I wouldn't know one of them, if I fell over him. The detectives came, secured their orders from Mr. Prenter, and went to work -or pretended to go to work. I'm glad that I'm not responsible for the detectives."
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