The secret of the old mill — John Stuart Mill — John Shaqi
The secret of the old mill
John Stuart Mill · en
"Is he your real uncle?"
"Oh, yes. He has looked after me for about a year now, ever since my
father died."
"Is he good to you?" asked Frank.
"Sometimes. But he won't let me go to school or have any friends, and
if I don't do just as he says, he beats me."
"What did he do when he lived in Washington?" inquired Joe. "Did he
make breakfast food there, too?"
The boy laughed.
"He didn't do very much of anything. He used to go out at night a lot
and leave me all alone. Sometimes he wouldn't come back until nearly
morning. He told me he was working in a factory. But sometimes funny
looking men would call on him and they'd talk for a long while."
"And he's never told you anything about the breakfast food?"
"Nothing."
"How long do you think you'll be here?"
"I don't know. Uncle Dock says we may be here for a month yet. But he
always has a valise packed so we can go any time."
The Hardy boys looked at one another significantly.
Was the patent breakfast food enterprise legitimate or illegitimate?
From what the boy had said, there appeared to be grounds for suspicion.
It did not seem that Uncle Dock was a scientist after all.
"I wish we were rich now," said Lester. "I'd like to go away from here
and go to school. I wish Uncle Dock would move into Bayport so I could
go to school with you fellows. But I guess there isn't much chance of
that."
"Your uncle is pretty sure he's going to be rich?" said Frank.
"Oh, yes. He has told me often that we'd be rich some day and that I
could have all the friends I wanted then."
"He must expect the breakfast food to be a success."
"I suppose so."
"Has he ever bought any grain from the farmers around here?" inquired
Joe.
The boy shook his head.
"No. Some people tried to sell grain to him, but he wouldn't buy it."
"Then what is he making the breakfast food out of?"
The boy shrugged his shoulders indifferently.
"I don't know," he answered vaguely. "I don't know much about it. He
never tells me anything and he never lets me into the workroom."
That was the sum and substance of Lester's knowledge of the activities
of his Uncle Dock and his two associates. The boy did not seem to
object to being questioned; it was plain that he was so lonesome that
he welcomed the opportunity of talking to some one. And the more the
Hardy boys interrogated him the more convinced they were that their
suspicions of Uncle Dock and the other two men were not unfounded.
"Doesn't he make you do any work?" asked Frank.
"I have to chop wood once in a while, and bring water up from the
spring. But there's not much to do. It's pretty dull here. I wish there
was more work for me to do. But mostly I just fish and swim and hang
around."
"Doesn't he let you help him in the mill?"
"No. I've offered to help, but none of them will let me come into the
workroom."
"Workroom? Don't they use the whole mill?"
"Only the stone room where the new machinery is."
"And the old machinery isn't being used at all?"
"No."