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Updated: June 24, 2025
"And here's the advertisement," concluded Mr. Algernon Spofford, indicating the slip of paper which he had turned over to Average Jones. "And if you are going up to Harwick and need help there, why I've got time to spare." "Thank you, Algy," replied Average Jones gravely. "But I think you'd better stay here in case anything turns up at this end.
Hence it was with misgiving that the Ad-Visor opened the door of his sanctum to Mr. Spofford, on a harsh December noon. But the misgivings were supplanted by pleased surprise when the caller laid in his hand a clipping from a small country town paper, to this effect: RANSOM Lost lad from Harwick not drowned or harmed. Retained for ransom. Safe and sound to parents for $50,000.
Having completed this delicate task to his satisfaction he handed the result to Hollins. "If you haven't already struck off a line, you might do so," he suggested. "I've asked the Farleys for a print of it; and I fancy they'll be sending for one." Leaving the shop he went direct to a telegraph office, whence he dispatched two messages to Harwick.
But it's all up, nevertheless." "Serves us right," said the woman disgustedly. "I wish we'd never heard of Tuxall and his line of bunk." "Mystification upon mystification!" cried the clergyman. "Will some one please give a clue to the maze?" "In a word," said Average Jones. "The Harwick meteor." "What connection " "Pardon me, one moment. The 'live thing' in the tree was a captive balloon.
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