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Updated: June 2, 2025
He got the job in Whiteside legitimately. He had planned to take a new job for a long time. So far as we can tell, he's as innocent as a woolly little lamb." "Just the same," Rick said stoutly, "I'm not satisfied. I'd like to get some more dope on that massage machine of his. Especially after what Dr. Winston said." Steve grinned. "Why don't you?"
After a few minutes, Scotty reported again. "He's hiking in the direction of Whiteside. Thumb out. He wants a ride." "Don't give him one," Barby interjected urgently. "He might recognize you." "He's hitchhiking," Scotty explained. "He doesn't even know I exist." "What are his chances?" Rick asked. "Good. There's a fair amount of traffic." Rick waited, alert for Scotty's next report.
The boys had decided the evening before that they would start the search with a flight in the Sky Wagon. After a quick inspection of the area, which probably wouldn't disclose much, they planned to go into Whiteside for a talk with Jerry and Duke at the newspaper office, and with Captain Douglas of the State Police. Rick considered.
Cole, that will do." When the man had gone, he sat down on a chair opposite Whiteside and thrust his hands into his pockets with a gesture of helplessness. "Well, I'm baffled," he said. "Let me recite the case, Whiteside, because it's getting so complicated that I'm almost forgetting its plainest features.
Following the direction of his eyes, Whiteside saw two deep furrows running diagonally across the grip. "What are they?" he asked. "They look like two bullets fired at the holder of the revolver some years ago, which missed him but caught the butt." Whiteside laughed. "Is that a piece of your deduction, Mr. Tarling?" he asked. "No," said Tarling, "that is a bit of fact. That pistol is my own!"
He won't be home until tonight, and the picture wouldn't reach JANIG until tomorrow. Then it would take a day to check it out." "Are we in a hurry?" Scotty asked. Rick chuckled. "I am. But don't ask me why. Look, I'll bet Duke or Jerry could identify it by going through the newspaper morgue." Their newspaper friends were owner-editor and reporter for the Whiteside paper back home.
Tarling brindled, then laughed. "Oh, yes, I take an interest," he admitted, "but it is very natural." "Why natural?" asked Whiteside. "Because," replied Tarling deliberately, "Miss Rider is going to be my wife." "Oh!" said Whiteside in blank amazement, and had nothing more to say. The warrant for Milburgh's arrest was waiting for them, and placed in the hands of Whiteside for execution.
"Well, what's to do?" inquired she, glancing sharply over her shoulder. "This 'ere gentleman says he's brought news of our Will," said Mrs. Whiteside hesitatingly. The old woman uttered a cry, and, withdrawing her hands from the dough, wiped them hastily in her apron, and ran towards the stranger. "News indeed," she said. "Eh dear, and how is my poor lad? How is he, sir?
"If there had been property taken, it would have had a simple explanation. But nothing has gone. Poor girl!" Tarling nodded. "Terrible!" he said. "The doctor had to drug her before he could get her to go." "Where is she?" asked Whiteside "I sent her on an ambulance to a nursing-home in London," said Tarling shortly. "This is awful, Whiteside."
"Have you any idea why he should want to out you?" asked Whiteside. "None in the world," replied Tarling. "Evidently my assailant was a man who had watched my movements and had probably followed the girl and myself to the hotel in a cab.
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