Whitford. "We may be able to pick up a clew there."
Although our friends were tired and sleepy, and hungry as well, they forgot all this in the desire to learn more about the mysterious warning that had come to them during the night. They all went outside, and Ned pointed to where he had picked up the envelope.
"Look all around, and see if you can find anything more," directed the custom agent.
"Footprints won't count," said Tom. "There was a regular circus crowd out here yesterday."
"I'm not looking for footprints," replied Mr. Whitford, "I have an idea"
"Here's something!" interrupted Mr. Damon. "It looks like a lead weight for a deep-sea fishing line. Bless my reel. No one could do fishing here."
"Let me see that!" exclaimed Mr. Whitford eagerly. Then, as he looked at it, he uttered a cry of delight. "I thought so," he said. "Look at this bit of cord tied to the weight."
"What does that signify?" asked Tom.
"And see this little hole in the envelope, or, rather a place that was a hole, but it's torn away now."
"I'm not much the wiser," confessed Ned, with a puzzled look.
