“Easy enough to say, Sam, but wishing them back isn’t going to bring them back,” came from Tom, grimly.

“If we only had a little more of a clew to work on, we, ourselves, might try to get those bonds back instead of relying on the detectives,” said Dick.  “But when you haven’t any clews, how are you going to strike out?”

“We might try to find that strange man, whoever he is,” suggested Tom.  “Although looking for him would be a good deal like looking for the proverbial pin in the haystack.  I would rather dig up the whole of the Atlantic seacoast looking for Captain Kidd’s treasure;” and he smiled grimly.

CHAPTER XX

 Barton Pelter again

“Well, Dick, any news?”

“No, Tom.  It’s the same old story.”

“Haven’t the detectives been able to locate that fellow they thought might be guilty?” put in Sam.

“No, Sam.  They told me up at headquarters that all of the three former criminals one of the detectives mentioned, were nowhere near New York, so far as they could learn.”

“Then if they haven’t been near this city, that supposition of theirs falls through,” was Tom’s comment.  “What do they propose to do next?”

“I don’t think they know.  Anyway, they didn’t give me any satisfaction;” and, hanging up his hat, Dick sank into an office chair, looking much downcast.

Several days had passed, and during that time the Rover boys had done their best to get further clews concerning the robbery.  From an old man who kept an apple stand near the entrance of the building, they had learned that the strange fellow who had been seen by Kittie Donovan was a man of perhaps forty years of age, with a clean-shaven face.  But more than that the street merchant was unable to say.

“And there are thousands of men in New York City who are about that age and who have clean-shaven faces,” had been Sam’s comment on learning this.  “That clew won’t get us anywhere.  Now, if the fellow had limped, or had a crooked nose——­”

“Sure!  And a false tooth with two spots of gold and a diamond in it, and all that sort of thing,” Tom had broken in.  “Say, Sam, what do you want, some clews made to order?” and he had laughed grimly.

“I must confess, I am at my wits’ end,” said Dick.

“What did Mr. Powell have to say about it?” questioned Tom, for he and Sam had been out hunting for clews when the lawyer had called.

“What could he say?  He wasn’t here when the bonds were taken.  He asked me about our other investments; and he said if we got into any financial difficulties through this loss, he would aid us all he could.”

“Bully for Songbird’s uncle!” cried Sam.  “He’s as generous as Songbird himself.”

“What’s bothering me is this,” continued the oldest Rover boy.  “Sooner or later, if we don’t recover those bonds, we have got to let dad know about the loss; and how he is going to take it, I don’t know.”