“I’ll tell you. After what happened the other day, I worried a lot. I was afraid you lads might think I was up to something crooked, and I wanted to make things square with you. So I decided to come here and make friends with you. And then I was going to look for that pocketbook I lost.”
“Was that the only reason?”
“Absolutely the only reason.”
“What interests you here so much?” asked Joe.
“I’m interested in the island because I want to buy it. There is no other reason beyond that.”
“Why did you steal our supplies, then?”
“Now, boys,” said Hanleigh, “what’s the use of going into all that? I didn’t take your supplies. I had nothing to do with it. I don’t see why you should accuse me of a thing like that.”
“Bluff!” said Frank. “Nothing but bluff! Your pocketbook story is a fairy tale. Well, Mr. Hanleigh, you’re in a bad fix, you know. You won’t be able to get back to town unless we take you there, and I’m warning you that unless you tell us the reason for your visits here, we intend to bring you in and turn you over to the police on a charge of trespass.”
Hanleigh’s eyes narrowed.
“You wouldn’t do that?”
“Wouldn’t we? You’d better tell us what you know.”
“I don’t know anything. You’re just persecuting me. I merely came out here to make friends with you this morning and you won’t give me a chance.”
“We know you too well. What’s it to be, Mr. Hanleigh—are you going to talk or are you going to jail?”
The victim groaned miserably.
“I don’t see why you try to make everything so unpleasant for me,” he complained. “You have me at your mercy and you’re just taking an unfair advantage.” He rubbed his sprained ankle tenderly. “I’m tired. I want to go to sleep.”
“Perhaps after you’ve had a sleep, you’ll think better of it.”
Hanleigh shrugged. He removed his coat, folded it very carefully and placed it under his head.
“Do you want a pillow?” asked Chet.
“Hang your coat up on the wall,” Frank suggested.
“No. No. I’m quite all right,” returned Hanleigh hastily. “I’m quite comfortable as I am. I wish you boys would leave me alone. I want to sleep.”
He placed his head on the folded coat.
The boys moved away.
“We can’t pump him,” whispered Frank. “Better leave him alone for a while.”
With a great deal of groaning and muttering, Hanleigh composed himself for slumber. In a short while his heavy breathing told the boys that he was asleep.
XXII
The Letter
“Just like a clam, that fellow Hanleigh!” exclaimed Biff Hooper.
“He sure doesn’t want to talk,” Frank Hardy agreed. “I thought we could scare him, but I guess there’s nothing doing.”
“He didn’t come back here to make friends with us. He was making another try at that notebook, that’s what he was doing. It must be mighty important to him.” Joe was eyeing the coat Hanleigh had folded so carefully and put under his head. “Wonder why he wouldn’t take a pillow. He wasn’t taking any chances on letting that coat get away from him.”
The boys looked at one another significantly.
“Perhaps he has some important papers in the pocket,” whispered Chet.
“Fine chance we have of getting at them.”
“I don’t know about that,” said Frank. “Where there’s a will, there’s a way. Let him sleep a little longer and we’ll see if we can’t get at them.”
The storm raged fiercely outside the cabin. The blizzard had grown in fury. The trees bowed before the bitter wind. The boys idled about, waiting for the moment when they could attempt to secure the coat from beneath the head of their sleeping enemy.
At last Frank nodded.
Hanleigh was snoring. Frank went over to the wall and took down his own coat. He folded it carefully, then beckoned to Joe.
Together, the boys tiptoed over to the head of the bed.
While Joe held Frank’s coat, Frank gently grasped the coat under Hanleigh’s head and began to withdraw it.
The man stirred uneasily. His snoring ceased.
The boys stepped back.
Hanleigh turned over on his side. The coat was almost entirely free. The boys waited a few moments, then went toward the man again.
With a quick movement, Frank drew the coat from beneath his head, while at the same instant Joe slipped the other in its place. They stepped back.
Hanleigh groaned in his sleep, stirred again. His groping hand reached for the coat and he drew it closer to him. In a few moments his snoring again resounded through the cabin.
The boys retreated to the kitchen.
“I don’t like the idea of going through a man’s private papers,” said Frank reluctantly; “but in this case I think there is some excuse. Hanleigh is up to some crooked business here and it’s our duty to find out what it is.”
“That’s right,” agreed the others.
Frank felt the inside pocket of the coat. He encountered a bulky sheaf of papers and these he removed. Most of them were letters, but one in particular appeared to be a legal document.
He unfolded this document and brought it over to the window. The others crowded about him.
“Better keep an eye on Hanleigh, in case he awakes,” Frank suggested. “Watch him, will you, Biff?”
Biff went over to the door.
“He’s still asleep,” he whispered.
“Good.”
Frank read the document over to himself. Then he gave a low whistle of amazement.
“This clears up a lot of things,” he said.
“Read it,” whispered Joe anxiously.
Frank read the document. It was a letter addressed to Hanleigh and was from a lawyer in New York City. It was as follows:
Dear Sir:
“This is to advise you that your late uncle, John Sparewell, named you as sole heir in his will, which has just been probated. Under the provisions of the will you will benefit to the extent of all Mr. Sparewell’s property, consisting of two lots of ground on the outskirts of Bayport, cash in the bank amounting to three hundred and fifty dollars, and all personal papers and belongings.
