He sauntered up to the young fellow, and, with an air of unconcern asked:
"Do you know anyone around here named Ned Wilding? I'm looking for him."
The boy, carrying a crate of oranges, jumped so he almost dropped the fruit. Then he looked sharply at William. His face grew pale, and William was sure he had found Ned.
"I haven't got time to talk," was the rather gruff answer made by the boy with the crate. "I'm busy," and then he hurried into the store with the box.
"Fooled again," thought William. He waited until the boy came out again, and this time he was sure it was the missing youth. But now he decided on a different plan.
"Evidently, if it is Ned, he doesn't want to be known," thought William. "Something's gone wrong with him. My only chance is in getting some of his chums here to identify him. I must telephone to one of them. They may be at the hotel. If not I'll leave word for them to come here as soon as they get back. Mr. Wilding too! I must 'phone him! Then I'll remain on the watch until some one arrives."
There was a telephone pay-station across the street, and William sent his two messages from
