"He's gone!" gasped Paul. "I thought that was his game," said the young millionaire, quietly. CHAPTER XIX A SIMPLE TRICK Dick's chums looked at him for a moment without speaking. He was quite cool while they were much excited. "What's that you said?" asked Paul, thinking perhaps he had not heard aright. "You expected him to skip out; did you?" asked Innis. "I did," replied Dick, calmly. "That is, after he sent us on to see the view alone. I thought maybe he might wait until we got nearer to Hazelton, but he evidently got what he wanted--a good chance--and took advantage of it." "Yes, and maybe he took something else, too!" cried Paul. "Have you looked for your papers, Dick?" and he peered into the car. "That's so--those legal papers!" added Innis. "He was one of your uncle's agents, Dick!" "Don't worry," said the young millionaire with a quizzical smile. "I have the papers safe," and he pulled an envelope from his pocket. "I've been carrying them there ever since I saw that broken steering knuckle," he went on. "What in the world had the broken steering knuckle to do with it?" asked Paul. "Because it had been deliberately smashed with a hammer, to knock his car out of commission," went on Dick. "He wanted a breakdown, and he made it to order. He knew we were coming along and would give him a lift, and he counted on getting possession of what he wanted. So I've been suspicious of him ever since. I thought it safer to carry the papers with me, and I guess I did right. Innis, just see if our road map isn't missing again." The cadet put his hand in the flap pocket where the map was kept. His fingers came out empty. "Cæsar's pineapples!" he cried. "It's gone, Dick!" "Yes, and I expect Mr. Brockhurst, or whatever his name happens to be, is bemoaning his poor luck. Score another miss for Uncle Ezra." "Be careful, though, Dick," warned Paul. "Three times and out, you know." "That's right, old man. I've got to be careful. We'll have to adopt some new system of hiding it, I guess." "But say, Dick, how did you get onto that fellow's curves?" inquired Innis. "You didn't tip us off." "No, I wanted to see just how far he would go, and I didn't want him to get suspicious. I knew I had the game in my own hands as long as I held the papers. You see it was this way: "When I first saw his stalled car I didn't think anything but that he was a fellow motorist in hard luck. But when he told that yarn about a piece of iron in the road flying up and cracking the steering knuckle I knew he wasn't telling the truth. No piece of iron could fly up with sufficient force to do that. Besides, the dent of the blow was inside, where no flying missile, unless it could turn a corner, could hit. So I deduced that a hammer had been used." "Regular detective," laughed Paul. "I should say so," agreed Innis. "Well," went on Dick, "then I noticed his limp. He had a no more sprained ankle than I had."