Mystery of the White Card

The boys were at the Morrison home waiting for Mr. Grey to appear. They had hundreds of questions to ask him and they hoped that he would clear up the mystery of the white card. But if he did not, they would be at a loss as to what to do next. They would either have to give up or commence their investigation all over again, and they were rather tired of the thing by now. Jack remarked, “I still can’t understand how we happened to come upon Mr. Grey and follow him. I don’t suppose he had anything to do with the mystery of the white card.”

“But it was you who originally began to follow him,” said Ken.

“That’s right. But now that I think of it, I can’t understand how I happened to pick on him.”

“Betty described the man who took her for a walk as tall and thin,” interposed Paul.

“Yes, but there are many tall, thin men in town,” argued Jack.

“And we came to the conclusion that the man who would start fires and steal a single book must be a maniac of some sort.”

Jack laughed. “Well, does Mr. Grey look like a maniac?” he asked.

[230]

Paul smiled and remarked, “Well, he does look rather odd, tall and thin as he is.”

“All that doesn’t get us anywhere,” said Jack.

“Well, let’s not come to any conclusions but wait until Mr. Grey comes,” remarked Paul.

“Yes, he’ll clear it all up for us.”

About ten minutes later, the government agent arrived. He looked like a changed man, dressed in a summer linen suit and his hair combed neatly back. “Hello, fellows,” he greeted as he entered.

“Hello, Mr. Grey,” returned Paul. “Won’t you sit down?”

“Well, I’ll try,” he said as he took a seat, “but I’m afraid you fellows are going to question me so much, you’ll have me standing on my head.”

“Then we’ll turn you over and sit you down again,” spoke up Jack.

“Now, Mr. Grey,” began Paul, “and by the way, is that your real name?”

“No, of course not. My name is George Wilson.”

“Well, Mr. Wilson, we are mystified by a certain little thing,” continued Paul, “and I wonder if you can clear it for us.”

“Try me and we’ll see.”

“The mystery of the white card,” Jack blurted out. “What is it all about?”

“What white card?” asked the agent mystified.

“You don’t know?” cried Ken.

The man shook his head in complete ignorance.[231] “I’ll faint,” cried Jack, falling back in his chair and pretending that he was actually fainting.

“Tell me what it is all about,” asked the government agent. “I don’t even know what you are talking about.”

“And we thought that you could give us the solution,” commented Jack. “Now what are we going to do?”

“Will you please let me in on it?” Mr. Wilson asked for the second time.

“It’s like this,” began Paul, again explaining the whole thing, this time for the benefit of Mr. Wilson. “About ten days ago, Ken’s little sister, Betty, disappeared. Jack happened to find her all the way out on Leonard Street. Questioning her, he found that a man had bought her candy, taken her for a walk and left her there after he gave her a blank white card.”

“May I see the card?” asked Mr. Wilson.

Paul took it out of his pocket and showed it to him. The agent glanced at it and then said, “Go on.”

“Well, several days later there happened to be a fire on Water Street and I rushed into the building. To make the story short, inside that burning house I found another white card, an exact duplicate of the first one.”

“What?” asked Mr. Wilson, his curiosity now aroused. “And then what?”

“That isn’t all,” continued Paul. “The next day[232] a robbery occurred at Professor Link’s and all that was taken was a single book out of the library. And what’s more, the same white card was left.”

“But the point of the story is,” intervened Ken, “we thought all along that you were the guilty person and that is how Jack began to follow you.”

“I!” cried the agent, aghast. “How do I come in on this?”

“Well, sir,” spoke up Jack, “it was really all my fault. After talking the thing over, we came to the conclusion that only a,—er,—a maniac sort of person would do anything like that.”

“And you took me for a maniac?” cried the agent, bursting out laughing. “That’s a good one.”

“I don’t think so,” replied Jack.

“No, I agree with you,” said Mr. Wilson. “I don’t think it’s quite the thing to be taken for a maniac. But go on.”

“Well, sir,” continued Jack, “I began to follow you. And the first night I followed you out to Waters Street, to the exact spot where the fire occurred, and ...”

“But you must be wrong,” cried Mr. Wilson, “because I don’t even ............