"The river can't be far away," suggested Tom."And now let's see what we can find, and see if we can get a line on who has been here.But first we'll let in a little light."He opened a window in the sleeping room, and pushed back the heavy plank shutter that had been closed.When the light entered it was seen that both bunks bore evidence of having been lately slept in.The blankets were tossed back, as if the occupants had risen, and in the outer room, on the stove, were signs that indicated a meal had been served not many days gone by.
"Now," observed Tom musingly, as he wandered about the place, "if we could only find out who owns this, and who has been here lately--"Jackson stooped over, and, thrusting aside an end of the blankets that trailed on the floor from one of the bunks, picked up something.
"What is it?" asked Tom.
"Looks like a leather pocketbook," was the answer."That's what it is," the mechanic went on, as he held the object to the light."It's a wallet.""Let me see it!" exclaimed Tom quickly.He took the wallet from the hands of Jackson.Then the young inventor uttered a cry."A clew at last!" he exclaimed."A clew at last! Mr.Nestor has been in this cabin!""How do you know?" asked Jackson quickly.
"This is his wallet," said Tom excitedly."I've often seen him have it.In fact he had it with him on Earthquake Island, the time I sent the wireless message for help.I saw it several times then.He kept in it what few papers he had saved from the wreck.And I've seen it often enough since.That's Mr.Nestor's wallet all right.Besides, if you want any other evidence-- look!" He opened the leather flaps and showed Jackson on one, stamped in gold letters, the name of Mary's father.
"Well, what do you make of it, Tom?" asked the mechanician, as he finished his examination of the wallet."What does it mean? The pocket- book is empty and that--""Might mean almost anything," completed Tom."But it's a clew all right! He's been here, and I'm pretty certain he was brought here in the auto with the odd tires--the one Mr.Damon and I saw traces of the nightwe heard the cries for help."
"But that doesn't help us now," said Jackson."The point is to find out how lately Mr.Nestor was here, and what has happened to him since.There isn't anything in the wallet, is there?""Nothing," answered Tom, making a careful examination so as to be sure."It's as empty as a last year's bird nest.He's been robbed--that's what has happened to Mr.Nestor.He was waylaid that night, instead of being run down as I thought--waylaid and robbed and then his body was brought here.""There you go again, Tom! Jumping to conclusions!" said Jackson, with a friendly smile, and with the familiarity of an old and valued helper."Maybe he's in perfectly good health.Just because you found his empty wallet doesn't argue that your friend is in serious trouble.He may have dropped this on the road and some one picked it up.I'll admit they may have taken whatever was in it, but that doesn't prove anything.The thing for us to do is to find out who knows about this shack; who owns it, on whose land it is, and whether any one has been seen here lately.""They've been here lately whether they've been seen or not," said Tom positively."There are the auto tracks.It rained two days ago, and the tracks were made since.Mr.Nestor must have been here within two days." "He may or may not," said Jackson."Say, rather, that some one washere and left his wallet after him.Now see if we can find other clews!"They looked about in the fast fading light, but at first could discover nothing more than evidences that three or four persons had been living in the shack and at some recent date--probably within a day or two.
They had had their meals there and had slept there.But this seemed to be all that could be established, other than that Mr.Nestor's wallet was there, stripped of its contents.
Tom was looking through the closet, from which a frightened chipmunk sprang as he opened the door.There were the remains of some food, which accounted for the presence of the little striped animal.And, as Tom poked about, his hand came in contact with something wrapped in paper on an upper shelf.It was something that clinked metallicly.
"What's that?" asked Jackson."Knives, or some other weapons?""Neither," answered Tom."It's a couple of files, and they've been used lately.I can see something in the grooves yet and--"Suddenly Tom ceased speaking and drew from his pocket a small but powerful magnifying glass.Through this he looked at one of the files, taking it out in front of the shack where the light was better.
"I thought so!" he cried."Look here, Jackson!" "What is it?""Another clew!" answered Tom.
