"No," his friend said decidedly, "we can't do that. Our folks will be worried about us if we don't report soon. Cap Bridger may have told around town that we went off on the submarine chaser, and perhaps our folks will think we've gone for good."
So they alighted at their station and left the mysterious Blake aboard the train. Whistler hurried home to consult with his father. There was nobody else in whom he had so much confidence; at least, nobody within reach.
In this case, however, his father was not within reach. Dr. Morgan had been called away to see a patient in the country. It was a call that might keep him away from home all night. Whistler was greatly disappointed.
He went down town again and hunted up Torry. He found his friend getting into his father's car in front of the garage.
"I was just coming over to get you," Torry said. "D'you know, Whistler, I feel just as nervous as a cat?"
"I guess that's what is the matter with me," Morgan confessed. "I'm bothering my head about that fellow Blake."
"Well, neither of them can advise us, then," said Torry, practically. "How about talking with somebody in Elmvale? The manager of the munition works, for instance?"
"That's so! Mr. Santley. Say! let's 'phone him and see if he is at home."
"But you can't say anything over the telephone about Blake, or about us fellows thinking he is up to something wrong."
"We'll make an appointment with the manager," said Whistler, running into the Torrance house.
He knew where the telephone was, the girl at central quickly gave him the connection. A man answered the call.
Morgan told him who he was and asked if he could see the manager if he drove right over to Elmvale in his friend's car.
"It has something to do with a man named Blake in the employ of the factory," said Whistler plainly. "But I can say nothing more about it over the 'phone."
"'Blake'?" repeated the voice at the other end, and Whistler thought there was a startled note in it. "What about him?"
"Come on, then!" exclaimed the man. "I shall wait here for you at my office."
Whistler ran out of the house. Al was already at the steering wheel of the car.
"For us to come over," Whistler replied. "And somehow, Torry, I feel we ought to hurry."