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Page 63
For a moment nothing could be made out in the dark interior of
the shack. But as their eyes became used to the gloom, Tom and
his companion were able to see that the shack consisted of two
rooms.
In the first one there was a rusty stove, a table, and some
chairs, and it was evident, from pans and skillets hanging on the
wall, as well as from a small cupboard built on one side, that
this was the kitchen and living room combined.
"Anybody here?" cried Tom, as he stepped inside.
Only a dull echo answered.
The two could now see where a door gave entrance to an inner
room, and this, a quick glance showed, was the sleeping
apartment, two bunks being built on the side walls.
"Well, somebody had it pretty comfortable here," decided Tom,
as he looked around. "They've been cooking and sleeping here, and
not so very long ago, either. It wouldn't be such a bad place if
it was cleaned out."
"That's right," agreed Jackson. "Wouldn't mind camping here
myself, if there was any fishing near."
"The river can't be far away," suggested Tom. "And now let's
see what we can find, and see if we can get a line on who has
been here. But first we'll let in a little light."
He opened a window in the sleeping room, and pushed back the
heavy plank shutter that had been closed. When the light entered
it was seen that both bunks bore evidence of having been lately
slept in. The blankets were tossed back, as if the occupants had
risen, and in the outer room, on the stove, were signs that
indicated a meal had been served not many days gone by.
"Now," observed Tom musingly, as he wandered about the place,
"if we could only find out who owns this, and who has been here
lately--"
Jackson stooped over, and, thrusting aside an end of the
blankets that trailed on the floor from one of the bunks, picked
up something.
"What is it?" asked Tom.
"Looks like a leather pocketbook," was the answer. "That's what
it is," the mechanic went on, as he held the object to the light.
"It's a wallet."
"Let me see it!" exclaimed Tom quickly. He took the wallet from
the hands of Jackson. Then the young inventor uttered a cry. "A
clew at last!" he exclaimed. "A clew at last! Mr. Nestor has been
in this cabin!"
"How do you know?" asked Jackson quickly.
"This is his wallet," said Tom excitedly. "I've often seen him
have it. In fact he had it with him on Earthquake Island, the
time I sent the wireless message for help. I saw it several times
then. He kept in it what few papers he had saved from the wreck.
And I've seen it often enough since. That's Mr. Nestor's wallet
all right. Besides, if you want any other evidence--look!" He
opened the leather flaps and showed Jackson on one, stamped in
gold letters, the name of Mary's father.
"Well, what do you make of it, Tom?" asked the mechanician, as
he finished his examination of the wallet. "What does it mean?
The pocket-book is empty and that--"
"Might mean almost anything," completed Tom. "But it's a clew
all right! He's been here, and I'm pretty certain he was brought
here in the auto with the odd tires--the one Mr. Damon and I saw
traces of the night we heard the cries for help."
"But that doesn't help us now," said Jackson. "The point is to
find out how lately Mr. Nestor was here, and what has happened to
him since. There isn't anything in the wallet, is there?"
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