"I kept my word--I didn't drink a drop when I was in town," he croaked. "But say, this is mighty dry work!" "You keep a clear head on your shoulders, Tim," warned Porton. "Some day, drink is going to land you in jail or in the grave." "Not much!" snorted the man. "I know when to stop." But Porton knew that this was not true. Another conference was held, and Crapsey told of having taken a look around, both at the Wadsworth place and the Basswood home. "There is no one at the Basswood place but Mr. and Mrs. Basswood; and I understand the man is sick in bed," he said. "All the telephone wires are out of commission, but to make sure that the Basswoods couldn't telephone I cut the wire that runs into his real estate office--and I also cut the wire up at the Wadsworth house." "Good for you, Tim!" returned Ward Porton, and then he told of having found the two cards, each containing Dave's signature. "That's fine!" cried the man. "That ought to help you a great deal when you ask for the miniatures." "I hope it does," answered Ward Porton, thoughtfully. "Now let us go; the sooner we get at this affair the better." And then both left the barn, entered the cutter, and drove rather slowly in the direction of the Basswood home. CHAPTER XV THE RETURN TO CRUMVILLE "If Ward Porton got my cap and overcoat he must have been staying at this hotel," said Dave, after the announcement made by Ben. "Let us interview the proprietor without delay." He and his chums hurried back into the hotel and there met not only the proprietor but also his son. "See here, have you anybody staying here who looks like me?" demanded our hero of both of them. "Sure, we've got a fellow who looks like you," declared the hotel-keeper's son before his father could speak. "It's a Mr. Jones. He has a room up on the third floor. He's here with an older man named Brown." "I wish you would take me up to their room!" cried Dave, quickly. "Why! what's the matter now?" "I want to find out whether that fellow is still here. If he is I want him placed under arrest." And then Dave related a few of the particulars concerning Ward Porton and his doings. "That certainly is a queer story," remarked the hotel proprietor. "I'll go upstairs with you." He led the way, followed by Dave and his chums. The youths were much astonished to see him halt at the door next to their own. "They don't seem to be there, or otherwise they are sleeping pretty soundly," remarked the hotel proprietor, after he had knocked on the door several times. "I guess you had better unlock the door," suggested Dave. "I rather think you will find the room empty." A key was secured from one of the maids and the door was opened. The proprietor gave one look into the apartment. "Gone!" he exclaimed. "Say! do you think they have run away?" "That's just exactly what I do think," answered Dave. "And that fellow who looks like me most likely took my cap and overcoat."