“Let’s go where we will have some privacy,” answered Paul.
Paul led them into the garage and the three boys piled into the back of the car. “Now,” said Ken, “you can tell us without anyone overhearing us. Don’t keep us in suspense any longer or we will collapse of curiosity.”
“First tell us how you feel,” spoke up Jack. “Any after effects from the smoke?”
“I feel perfectly all right,” was the answer. “Now, this is what I want to talk to you about.”
“Yes, what is it all about?”—that from Ken.
“Jack,” began Paul, “do you still have that white card? You know the one I mean.”
“Of course. I still have it, certainly. What about it?”
“Will you show it to me?”
Jack began to look through his pockets. Finally he confessed, “I guess I don’t have it with me. I must have left it home, in my other coat pocket.”
“What about the card?” asked Ken.
“Only this,” replied Paul gravely. And he showed them the card. “Is it the same card?” he asked.
Jack examined it very closely. “To me it appears as though it is the very self-same card. How did you get it?”
“Now listen closely,” whispered Paul. The other two boys leaned over. “I rushed down the burning stairs to find the room in which the child was. Well, I was groping along the wall with my hands because I couldn’t see a thing. I came upon the door and I moved my hand up and down trying to find the knob when I came upon something sticking in the doorway. Without thinking any further, I grabbed it and shoved it into my pocket.” Paul paused to add emphasis to his forthcoming statement. “And that thing was this card,” he concluded.
The boys gasped. “This card!” exclaimed Jack.
“Are you sure?” asked Ken.
“Absolutely positive,” asserted Paul.
“But how did it get there?”
“That is something I don’t know and which I would very much like to know.”
For about a minute the boys sat there in silence, overcome with amazement. Jack jumped out of the car. “Come on, fellows,” he called.
“Where to?” asked Paul.
“To my house. I want to find that card.”
Jack was so excited, he had difficulty in restraining himself from running. The other boys kept up with him, walking briskly. At the Stormways home, Jack rushed up the steps of the porch. “You wait here,” he called over his shoulder to his companions.
Two minutes later he came rushing out of the doorway. “Here it is,” he cried, waving the white card.
The two cards were compared; they were identical in every respect. “This is getting to be serious,” whispered Ken.
“Terribly serious,” added Ken. “We must do something about it. The man must be absolutely crazy.”
“Crazy is not the word,” said Paul. “Dangerous is more fitting. If he is permitted to roam the streets without being stopped, only God knows what damage he will do and what crimes he may commit.”
“But what can we do?” Jack questioned anxiously. “Our suspicions are only a hunch. These cards may only be an accident.”
“No,” said Paul, shaking his head. “My opinion is that this is no accident but the work of a distorted mind.”
The boys sat down on the porch. At a loss as to the meaning of it all, they remained silent. Paul whispered, “I’ll tell you what we can do, though.”
“What?”
“Let’s go over and see Captain Bob.”
“What for?” queried Ken.
“I want to ask his opinion on the origin of the fire.”
“Well, that won’t hurt any,” remarked Jack.
The three boys set off. Captain Bob himself opened the door for them and led them into the living room. Turning to Paul, the Captain said, “You are the boy that dashed into the burning building this afternoon, aren’t you?”
“Yes, but it was really nothing.”
Captain Bob sat himself down and pointed the boys to seats. “Well,” he drawled, “you are a modest boy. But if it hadn’t been for you, the old folks and the child would have burned to cinders.”
“If I had not entered, one of the other boys would have,” he answered. “We were the first on the scene, you know.”
“Yes, so I understand. But what is it I can do for you boys?”
Paul leaned forward in his chair. “Captain Bob,” he said, “we came over to ask you your opinion on the origin of the fire.”
“Just what do you want to know?”
Paul hesitated, not knowing exactly how to put his question. He said, “What I want to know, Captain, is whether you think the fire was—er,—an accident, or whether you think someone started the fire.”
“You are asking very serious questions,” replied Captain, knitting his brows.
“Yes, I know, but I am very much interested and—”
“May I ask why you should be interested?” asked the old man shrewdly.
“It’s only because,—er,—when I dashed into the building, I noticed something very odd about the fire.”
“Just what do you mean?”
“Well, as we ran up to the house, we noticed smoke pouring out of the front door. I dashed inside by the back door and then I saw that most of the smoke and fire seemed to be at the threshold of the front door. Now that is very odd.”
“Yes, you are quite right, my boy,” answered Captain Bob. “As a matter of fact, the front door caved in first. However, I came to the fire a little too late to really judge the cause or origin of the fire. But it did seem to me that there was something odd about the whole thing.”
“Was there anything about the fire that would lead you to believe that it was an accident or perhaps—er,—otherwise?” asked Paul, pressing his point.
Captain Bob scratched his chin thoughtfully and said, “My dear boy, you are asking some very serious questions that may get you into trouble.”
Paul insisted. “Just the same, would you form an opinion?”
“No, I really couldn’t because, as I said before, I came to the fire too late. I had no chance to look into the cause of the fire and now that the house is a heap of ashes, the chances of finding any clue is very slight. Suppose you tell me your opinion, my boy.”
“To be quite frank, Captain, I think that the fire was started by some pyromaniac.”
The Captain sat up in his chair. “What makes you think so?” he demanded suddenly.
Paul hesitated. He did not want to give himself away. “Just a hunch,” he replied.
Captain Bob sank back into his chair. For what seemed a very long time there was absolute silence. The Captain seemed to be musing over something and the boys had nothing more to say. Paul rose and his friends did likewise. “Thank you, Captain Bob,” said Paul. “I guess we will be going now.”
Escorting them to the door, the Captain said, “Don’t thank me. I am glad you came.” He hesitated. “And,—er,—don’t you go around talking about a pyromaniac, my boy. It may get you into trouble.”
“I won’t, Captain,” promised Paul.
“Goodnight, boys.”
“Goodnight, Captain