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Updated: June 1, 2025
Bascomb, having his cigar lighted, seemed to prefer strolling in the rear by himself. "Now, I don't want to give you any wrong impressions, Mr. Reade," went on Mr. Prenter. "Mr. Bascomb is the head of our company, but other directors represent more of the stock of the company than he does. I am one of them. Sometimes Mr.
Prenter, "that he can't make trouble for any one but himself, and that he had better save his breath for the next time he needs it." "Evarts will be awful mad, if I go back to him with any talk like that," insinuated the messenger meaningly. "See here, fellow," interjected.
"I imagine that Evarts is even some sort of family connection who has to be looked after and kept in a good job." "Anyway," Tom continued, "I explained that Evarts was worse than useless here and that I couldn't have him in the camp or on the job." "Quite right, I fancy," nodded Mr. Prenter. "In the second place, Mr.
"That would be to tell my story and hand in my resignation in the same breath. Reade, you don't realize how much the presidency of the Melliston Company means to me! To resign, or to be kicked out, would end my career in the business world." In the near darkness a step sounded on the gravel. Then Mr. Prenter came briskly forward.
If I catch you, again, on this company's property, I'll see to it that you're arrested, and locked up for trespass." "That's the way to talk!" nodded Treasurer Prenter, approvingly. "I guess I'll go when I get good and ready," asserted the stranger. In the front ranks of the crowd pressing around them, Reade now discerned the face of the Italian gang-master with whom he had talked recently.
"Or else we're just starting with that trouble," Reade smiled wistfully. "Mr. Prenter, I must say that there appears to be no end to the surprises with which our enemies are capable of supplying us." Tom then nodded to Dick to come forward and presented him to the treasurer. "An army officer?" asked Mr. Prenter eagerly. "Then I'm doubly glad to meet you, Mr. Prescott.
"You failed me in one thing -you didn't make Reade take me back on the job, as I told you to do." "I couldn't," pleaded Mr. Bascomb. "Prenter stood with Reade and was against me." "You're the president of the company, aren't you?" Evarts demanded sullenly. "Yes; but Prenter is a bigger man in the company, and he has more influence with the board of directors.
In the meantime Tom, Harry and Treasurer Prenter covered nearly a quarter of a mile along the retaining wall when the motor boat, putting about, picked them up with the searchlight. Toot! toot! sounded the boat's pneumatic whistle. "Foreman Corbett is signaling to us to wait and he'll put in for us," said Tom, coming to a halt. Soon the motor craft chugged in alongside, coming close to the wall.
He wished to race back, to be the first to greet his chum and press his hand. But just then Reade felt strangely bewildered. "Of course I don't believe in ghosts!" Tom laughed nervously. "No!" chuckled Mr. Prenter. "This is real flesh and blood that is coming toward us."
"Not the slightest," groaned Tom. "I know all the indications are that he has been killed, and I ought to believe that such is the case. But I simply won't believe it. Why, if he were killed, what became of the body?" "It's a puzzle," sighed Mr. Prenter. They were now nearing the land end of the breakwater wall. Mr. Bascomb overtook them.
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