He pointed to a box that stood beside a few blankets in a corner of the little cave. It was filled with the food that Schaum had stolen from them. Very little of it had been touched; the robber had been given no time to dispose of his loot.
“Well, I never expected to see that again,” said Joe.
“I guess it’s safe enough where it is. We can pick it up on our way back from Captain Royal’s.”
“How about these blankets? Schaum said we could have them.”
Frank picked up one of the blankets. It was heavy and of excellent quality.
“I’ll say he was mighty generous, letting us have good blankets like these,” he declared. “They seem brand new, too.”
“If they are, there must be a catch in it somewhere.”
“There is. Look!”
Frank held out the blanket. Stamped into the fabric was the name, “Hotel Bayport.” The reason for Schaum’s sudden burst of generosity was now clear.
“No wonder he didn’t want to take them with him. He knew that if the police laid eyes on those blankets he’d have another charge laid against him. He must have stolen them from the hotel after he escaped from jail.”
“I think he would take anything that wasn’t nailed down,” said Joe. “Well, we can take the blankets back with us and return them to the hotel, at any rate.”
“Sure. We’ll leave ’em here with the grub until we’re ready to go back to our own cave.”
The boys found nothing else worthy of attention in Carl Schaum’s crude abode except a revolver hidden beneath a rock near the blankets. They appropriated this, to turn over to the police when they should return to Bayport.
They departed, well satisfied with their visit.
“Chet will give three cheers when he sees the grub again. I don’t think he was very cheerful about the thought of going on short rations until we got new supplies,” said Frank.
“I wasn’t very cheerful about it myself,” Joe admitted. “It makes me sore when I think of Schaum stealing all that stuff. Why, one man couldn’t eat it all in a month.”
“Perhaps he intended to stay a month, or even longer, if he could get away with it.”
“Well, he might have left us more than he did. I’m glad I was able to douse some water in his face.”
The Hardy boys were soon in sight of Captain Royal’s cave. The gloomy opening was barely visible through the lowering mist.
“I wonder if the old gentleman could be at home, Joe.”
“No sign of life around, anyway.”
“Perhaps he’s asleep.”
They made their way to the cave mouth, cautiously. Still there was no sign of the captain.
“Better call him,” suggested Frank.
They halted.
“Captain Royal!” shouted Joe.
There was no answer.
“I guess he’s not at home.”
They called out Captain Royal’s name again, but still there was no reply, so they ventured close to the cave mouth and peeped inside. The place was deserted.
“Shall we go in?” said Joe.
“Sure. We’ll take a look around.”
They stepped inside the cave. Captain Royal had evidently spent the night there, for his bed was even untidier than it had been the previous day.
“Perhaps he’s gone fishing,” said Frank.
He was looking about the cave and suddenly his gaze fell on a small cupboard, consisting of a box on a ledge of rock, in which he could see a number of books. He gave a low whistle of surprise.
“The worthy captain has a library,” remarked Joe.
“Let’s see what his taste in reading matter is like.”
Frank went over to the improvised cupboard and picked up one of the books. It fell open and a number of strips of paper fluttered to the floor of the cave.
Frank bent to pick up the papers. He looked at them curiously.
“Newspaper clippings!”
“We might get a clue about him from them,” Joe suggested.
In the dim light, Frank scrutinized one of the clippings. It was a despatch from Boston, dated several months previous, and consisted of an address on Egyptian civilization given by a world-famous traveler who had spoken in that city.
“This is uncommonly dull, if you ask me,” said Frank at last, putting the clipping aside and picking up another.
“No mention of Todham Todd?”
“Not that I can find.”
Joe took one of the other clippings and the boys perused them diligently, seeking some mention of the missing college professor.
All the clippings were devoted to various lectures that had been given by various speakers in different parts of the country within recent months.
“Looks as if he was a lecturer, or had some interest in lectures, at any rate,” Joe commented.
Patiently, they examined clipping after clipping, but in none of them did they find any mention of Todham Todd. A further search of the cupboard, however, revealed a veritable mass of papers, and the boys settled down to a thorough study of them.
“He’s a queer kind of sailor, that’s sure,” declared Frank. “I never heard of a sailor who collected clippings about lectures.”
The other papers were similar clippings, as well as typewritten documents. When the boys examined these documents in the hope of finding some clue to the former activities of Captain Royal, they found that they were manuscripts of lectures on philosophy and other topics. But still they found no mention of the name of Todham Todd.
“Well, whether he’s mentioned in these papers or not, I’m sure that Captain Royal and Todham Todd are the same man,” observed Joe. “No sailor would ever carry all this stuff around with him.”
“It certainly looks peculiar,” his brother agreed. “But there are some more papers yet. We’ll look through them all. If he is Todham Todd it’s hardly likely that he would carry clippings about other men’s lectures and none of his own.”
Sheet after sheet, they perused. There were lectures by visiting authors, lectures by big-game hunters, lectures by Arctic explorers, lectures by college professors, photographs of lecturers.
“He is certainly interested in lecturing. Perhaps it’s just a coincidence. Crazy men will do crazy things. Perhaps Captain Royal just has a sort of lunatic streak that way,” said Joe finally, when it
