CHAPTER XVII
THE CHUMS ARRIVE
Darewell never had known such excitement as followed the destruction of the school tower.
Of course all the doings in Mr. Williamson's store leaked out, and, though there were not lacking those who accused the four chums of, at least, knowing something about the matter, there were others who felt sure they had had nothing to do with it.
"I just wish I had a chance to nurse that mean Mr. Williamson!" exclaimed Alice, when her brother had told her of the hearing. "I'd fix him."
"What would you do?"
"I'd cover him with the hottest mustard plasters I could make, and I've got a good formulæ for some powerful ones. Then I'd fasten 'em on with bandages so they couldn't come off. The idea of accusing you boys!"
"He didn't exactly accuse us," said Bart. "That's the trouble. If he did we could demand a legal trial and be found not guilty in short order. As it is we're suspected and can't prove our innocence."
"What are they going to do about it?"
"Why nothing at present, and I'm glad of it. Frank, Fenn, and I are going to New York Wednesday and we don't care what they do until we come back."
"But, Bart, doesn't that look like running away?"
"I don't care what it looks like. It's the first chance we have ever had of going to a big city like that and we may never have another, so we're going. They can talk all they want to, and fix the tower up to suit themselves."
From the preparations Bart and his two chums made for their journey to New York, one would have thought they were going to Europe. They were at the station about an hour ahead of train time Wednesday morning, and a number of their boy friends were present to see them oft. Going to New York was somewhat of a novelty in Darewell, especially when three boys went at once to visit the rich aunt of another local lad.
Amid a chorus of good-byes the boys got aboard and soon they were speeding toward the big city. They arrived at the same depot where Ned had left the train two days before, and looked around for a possible sight of their chum.
"Was he going to meet us here?" asked Frank.
"No, he said we were to go right to his aunt's house," replied Fenn. "Bart has the address; haven't you?"
"Yes, on Forty-fourth street."
"East or west?" asked Frank.
"Neither one, just plain Forty-fourth street."
"I'm sure he said east," Fenn remarked.
"I think it was west," Frank replied.
"Let's flip a coin," said Fenn. "Heads is east and tails is west."
It came down heads, and, following a policeman's directions they started for that section of the city. They reached it, after no little trouble for they took the wrong car once.
"Doesn't look like a very nice neighborhood," said Fenn as they started along East Forty-fourth street. "Still I guess New York is so crowded you can't have much of a choice."
They found the number on East Forty-fourth street, but at the first sight of the big apartment house they knew they had made a mistake, since Ned had told them his aunt lived in a house all to herself, w r hich is quite a distinction in New York.
"Now for the other side of the city," said Frank, as after diligent inquiry, they learned Mrs. Kenfield did not live in the neighborhood they first tried. They boarded a car and were soon at Ned's uncle's home.
"Looks as if it was shut up," remarked Bart. "I hope we haven't made another mistake," said Fenn.
"It's the right number and it's the right street," replied Bart.
"Yes, and Mrs. Kenfield lives here," put in Frank.
"How can you tell?" asked Bart.
"There's the name on the door plate," Frank answered pointing to the silver plate worked in black letters with the name: "Paul Kenfield."
"Ring the bell harder," suggested Fenn, when no one had answered in response to Bart's first attempt.
"It's an electric bell, and can ring only so hard," Bart answered. They rang several times and waited.
"The blinds are all closed," spoke Frank, looking up at the windows.
"Folks in New York often do that," replied Bart. "If his aunt wasn't home Ned would have sent us word."
Just then a woman in the next house came to her door.
"Are you looking for Mr. Kenfield?" she asked.
"Yes, ma'am," replied Bart.
"He sailed for Europe Monday."
"For Europe?" repeated Bart.
"Yes."
"Is Mrs. Kenfield at home?"
"No, I saw her leave the house yesterday just before noon. She told me she had a telegram that some relative was quite ill and she had to go to Chicago. Her servant girl has gone also. The house is shut up."