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Updated: May 25, 2025
He heard a step behind him and turned to see Frank Wernberg. Frank held out his hand. "Shake hands with me, Bob," he exclaimed. "I want to tell you that I was wrong about that the other day, and you were right." Bob responded heartily. "Yes," said Frank. "I was dead wrong. I had thought from the way father talked that he was pro-German, but I found out that he wasn't at all.
"In what?" "In the plot with Mr. Wernberg." Mr. Cook laid down his paper. "Tell me what you know," he said soberly. Bob repeated the part of Lena's telephone conversation that he had heard. "You see," he exclaimed, "she spoke about the hospital and that must have meant Mr.
Wernberg gets so he can talk I'll bet he'll say the same thing." Bob merely shrugged his shoulders. He did not think that the sergeant's explanation was correct, but he could offer no better one himself so he said nothing. After all it might be that in the hurry to get away there was a mix up and Mr. Wernberg was left behind, locked in the room. Bob had no doubt in his mind that Mr.
"Sergeant Riley just told me over the telephone; I had called him up to inquire how Mr. Wernberg was getting along." "How is he?" asked Bob. "Pretty bad yet; once in a while he recovers consciousness, but only for a few minutes. Besides he suffers so from his burns he can't do any talking." "And meanwhile his gang keeps on working," said Hugh. "Is that fake detective part of his gang?" said Bob.
"I was afraid your mother might find it and worry." "Perhaps there won't be any more trouble, now that Mr. Wernberg is out of the way," suggested Bob. "If he was the leader of the gang, his burns will keep him in the hospital and out of mischief for some time to come." "You didn't hear what happened this afternoon then?" asked his father. "No, what?" demanded Bob and Hugh in one breath.
Finally, however, he seemed to decide against that course and jumping on his wheel rode off down the street. "He lost his nerve," exclaimed Hugh. "You ought to have called to him." "A fine chance of that," snorted Bob. "If he wants to he can come in here and see me, but I won't run after him." "Who was that boy?" asked Karl curiously. "Frank Wernberg," said Bob. "Wernberg?" exclaimed Karl.
As they entered the sitting-room where the telephone was located, Bob was in the act of hanging up the receiver. "Who was it, Bob?" asked his mother. "I don't know; it sounded like a German's voice. At any rate he had the wrong number. He said, 'Iss dis Mr. Vernberg?" "Oh, Wernberg," exclaimed Mr. Cook. "He's the man who moved into that house down on the corner about two years ago.
Cook, Hugh, and Sergeant Riley accompanied Bob on his trip to the High Ridge Hospital, and the three other members of the party were left to watch the fire and see that it did not spread, and then they were to follow in the other car. Donovan the detective seemed to be himself once more and related briefly the story of how he had rescued Mr. Wernberg.
"His name iss Kraus," said Heinrich. "He has a little mustache, and in the afternoon he blew up the house, because he knew we were after him and he wished to destroy all evidence." "That's when Mr. Wernberg got hurt," said Mr. Cook. "What was he doing in the house, Heinrich?" He was amazed at the way the mystery was clearing itself up. "As I told you," said Heinrich.
It hurt him to discover that their chauffeur, a man he had grown up with and liked, was working hand in glove with Mr. Wernberg. He never would have believed it possible had he not heard it with his own ears from Heinrich himself. It was a great shock to him and he knew how badly his father and mother would feel. Of course he must tell his father. "Come on, Hugh, let's go," exclaimed Bob.
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