satisfaction of getting any money out of you. Just wait now, I'll work this thing out, and find a way to catch that fellow. If I could only think what that buzzing sound was"
Then, in a flash, it came to Tom.
"A sawmill! A planing mill!" he cried. "That's what it was! That fellow was telephoning from some place near a sawmill!"
The telephone rang in the midst of Tom's excited comments.
"Yes—yes!" he called eagerly. "Who is it—what is it?"
"This is Larsen—the private detective you sent."
"Oh, yes, you were at the drug store."
"Yes, Mr. Swift. Well, that party didn't call up from here."
"I know, Larsen. It was from another station. We're after him. Much obliged to you. Come on back."
Tom was sure his theory was right. The man had called up the Damon house from some telephone near a sawmill. And a little later Tom's theory was proved to be true. He got a report from the second detective. Unfortunately the man had not been able to reach the telephone station before the unknown speaker had departed.
