The Rover Boys Down East: or, The Struggle for the Stanhope Fortune

They were just entering Boston proper when a loud report came from one of the rear tires. The car swerved to one side, and Spud had all he could do to keep it from going into a hitching post. Then he shut off the power.

“A blow-out!” announced Tom, as he leaped to the ground.

“That ends running for the present,” said Sam.

“So it does,” agreed Spud, mournfully.

CHAPTER XX

AN ADVENTURE IN BOSTON

The Rover boys looked at each other inquiringly. They wanted to go on, but did not know what to do about the stalled automobile.

“You go ahead,” said Spud, reading their thoughts. “I’ll fix the tire, or have it done by some garage man, and I’ll see you later.”

“Where?” asked Dick.

“I’ll go to the Parker House – that is where my uncle always goes,” answered Spud.

“Very well – we’ll call for you or send a message,” said Tom. “Come on, here is a trolley!” And he ran to stop the car. Soon he and his brothers were on board and bound for the heart of the city.

“Say, do you know any street in town that begins with Carm?” questioned Dick, of the car conductor.

“Carm?” repeated the man, slowly. “No, I don’t. I don’t believe there is such a street.”

“Do you know the streets pretty well?”

“I ought to – I drove an express wagon for four years.”

“That looks as if we were up against it,” said Dick, to his brothers.

“We’ll go in a drug store and consult a city directory,” answered Sam. “He may think he knows all the streets, but every city has a lot of places even the oldest inhabitant doesn’t know.”

They rode on a few blocks further and then, seeing a large drug store, alighted from the car and entered the place. A directory was handy, on a stand, and they asked for permission to consult it.

“Nothing like Carm here,” said Tom, after they had looked at the alphabetical list of streets. “We are stumped, sure enough.”

“Hello! I’ve got it – I think!” burst out Sam, so loudly that the attention of several persons in the store was attracted to him. “Here is a Varmolet street. Maybe Mrs. Stanhope only heard the name, and thought it was Carmolet. She wrote that down, and the end became rubbed off.”

“You may be right, Sam,” answered Dick. “Anyway, I guess your idea is worth looking into. I wonder where Varmolet street is?”

They made several inquiries, and at last learned that the street was a narrow and exceedingly crooked affair about half a mile away. They boarded another street car to visit the neighborhood.

“Look who is here!” ejaculated Tom, as he and his brothers sat down.

“Well, I never!” cried Sam.

“Jerry Koswell and Bart Larkspur!” murmured Dick.

It was indeed the two former students of Brill – the lads who had run away after causing the Rovers and some others so much trouble. Both were loudly dressed in summer outing flannels, and each carried an unlighted cigarette in his hand.

“Huh!” grunted Jerry Koswell, as he glared at the Rovers. “Where did you come from?”

“Perhaps we might ask the same question,” returned Dick, coldly.

This meeting was not at all to his taste, especially when he and his brothers wished to turn their whole attention to locating Mrs. Stanhope and her enemies.

“Have you been following us?” demanded Bart Larkspur.

“No, Larkspur, we have something of more importance to do,” answered Tom.

“Huh! you needn’t get gay, Rover!”

“I’ll get gay if I wish,” retorted Tom, sharply.

“You had better not follow us,” came in ugly tones from Jerry Koswell. “If you do you’ll get yourselves in hot water.”

“See here, Koswell, and you too, Larkspur,” said Dick, in a low but distinct tone. “We know all about what you did at Brill – and so do the authorities know it. Just at present we haven’t time to bother with you. But some day we may get after you.”

“Bah! you can’t scare me!” snorted Koswell. Yet his face showed that he was disturbed.

“Are you staying in Boston?” asked Sam, somewhat curiously.

“No, we are bound for a trip up the coast to – ”

“Shut up, Jerry, don’t tell ’em where we are going,” interrupted Larkspur. “It’s none of their business.”

“Some day we’ll get after you,” said Dick. “Now we’ve got to leave you,” he added, as the car conductor called out the name of Varmolet street, as Dick had requested him to do.

“You keep your distance!” shouted Koswell after the Rover boys.

“We are not afraid of you!” added Larkspur, and then the car went on again, and the two former students of Brill were lost to view.

“They are off on some kind of a trip,” said Sam. “Evidently they have quite some money.”

“More money than brains,” returned Tom, bluntly. “If their folks don’t take ’em in hand, they’ll both end up in prison some day.”

“Koswell mentioned a trip up the coast,” said Dick. “They must be going up to Portland and Casco Bay, or further.”

“I’d like to go to Casco Bay myself,” said Sam. “It’s a beautiful spot, with its islands. Tom Favor was telling me all about it. He spent three summers there.”

They had alighted at the corner of Varmolet street and now started to look for No. 234. They had to walk two blocks, past houses that were disreputable in the extreme.

“I don’t like the look of this neighborhood,” remarked Sam, as they hurried along. “I’d hate to visit it after dark.”

“Think of what Mrs. Stanhope must be suffering, if they brought her to such a spot,” returned Dick, and could not help shuddering.

Presently they reached No. 234, an old three-storied house, with a dingy front porch, and with solid wooden shutters, the majority of which were tightly closed. Not a soul was in sight around the place.