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Updated: May 25, 2025
"You mean he might give the whole thing away?" "Exactly." "Still," said Bob, "Heinie can be awfully stubborn sometimes." "I know it. We'd have to be clever to get a full confession from him I imagine." "I don't see what use he could be to Mr. Wernberg," said Hugh. "It's a favorite method of these German plotters, Hugh," said Mr. Cook.
As a result of this treatment the soot and grime disappeared and presently it was possible to distinguish his features. Suddenly Mr. Cook started back in surprise. "Come here, Bob," he cried. "See who this is." One glance was enough for Bob. He recognized the man over whom his father was working as Mr. Wernberg. "Who is he?" inquired Sergeant Riley, noting his companion's astonishment.
We can't stand out here on the porch all day, you know." Bob pushed the electric bell, and almost instantly the front door was opened by Frank Wernberg. It would seem as if he had been behind the door waiting all the time. His close-cropped light hair bristled fiercely, and his nose was still slightly swollen; his chin also was still raw where Bob had planted his fist the day before.
"Yes," grinned the chauffeur, "I fool you all right. Well that night we could not find anything so we left and Mr. Wernberg went back the next afternoon to look around. One of the plotter's gang discovered that he was there and tried to blow him up." "But who locked us in that room?" demanded Bob. "I did," said Heinrich. "I thought you was part of the German gang." "Didn't you see us?"
Cook dispatched Bob to the garage with a message to Heinrich to have the car ready in half an hour. As Bob ran across the lawn he met Lena returning from the garage. "Aha," he thought as he greeted her, "you saw Heinrich all right, didn't you?" He was fully convinced now that their cook and chauffeur were agents of Mr. Wernberg, and partners in crime. A moment later he reached the garage.
He stooped to pick it up, and as he glanced at it he uttered an exclamation of surprise. "Look, Hugh," he exclaimed. The envelope was of plain white paper and addressed to Mr. Wernberg. There was no street number on it, merely the name. This in itself was not particularly odd, nor was it the cause of Bob's surprise. On the other side of the envelope, however, was scrawled a drawing.
Usually they laughed and joked incessantly, and Frank Wernberg was one of the jolliest boys in the school. He was inclined to be stout and like most fat people was full of fun as a rule. This morning, however, his demeanor was far from happy. "Why shouldn't I have a grouch?" he demanded angrily. "I've just been talking to that chump, Jim Scott.
"His name is Wernberg," said Mr. Cook. "I've heard of him," said Riley grimly. "Have you been looking for him?" "I know his name," exclaimed the sergeant evasively. "Well," said Mr. Cook, "he's about done for, I'm afraid. I suppose we ought to get him to a doctor as fast as we can though." "Yes," agreed Riley. "I'll get our car," exclaimed Bob. "Can you bring it in here?" asked his father. "Yes.
"I thought you might be interested in the hospital patients," he said. "Mr. Wernberg will recover all right, and Lena is not badly hurt. She keeps calling all the time for somebody named Heinrich. Do you know him?" "Will you excuse me, Mr. Cook?" exclaimed Heinrich, and, without waiting for a reply, he dashed out of the room, nearly falling over two chairs in his haste to get away to the hospital.
She threaded her way in and out among the throngs of people, and Bob was hard put to it to keep pace with her. As he rushed along he became more and more puzzled and confused as to what was taking place. There was no doubt in his mind that Lena and Heinrich were working in the interests of Mr. Wernberg and therefore were to be watched closely.
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