Soon the touring-car was rolling over the lake road, in the direction Job Haskers had taken. The storm had left the road a trifle muddy in spots, but that was all. Overhead the sky was blue and the sun shone brightly.

   Less than a quarter of a mile was covered when those in the touring-car saw a figure ahead they knew to be Job Haskers. He was walking along more slowly now, his head bent down as if in deep thought.

   "I suppose he is trying to figure out what to do next," was Phil's comment. "Wants to locate another sucker—if he can."

   "Such a man ought to be in jail," said Bert "He may rob some poor fellow and do it in a legal way, too,—so that the man won't be able to get back at him."

   Roger had slowed down, so that the touring-car kept well behind the former teacher. Presently the boys saw Haskers turn up a side road, one that led to a small hotel, standing on a hill overlooking the lake.

   "He's going to the Fenton House," said Bert. "Maybe he is stopping there."

   "Possibly," returned Dave.

   Slowly following the man, they saw Job Haskers enter the hotel and walk in the direction of the reading-room. Roger stopped the car and turned to the others.

   "Well, what's the next move?" he asked. "Want to go in?"

   "What's the use?" asked Phil. "We'd only have a lot of words with him. He's got a right to stay here if he wants to."

   "Let's go in anyway," said Dave. "You must know somebody here," he continued, turning to Bert.

   "Oh, yes, I know several young fellows and girls," answered the lad who was spending the summer at the lake.

   "Then we can pretend to be calling on them," put in Roger.

   Leaving the touring-car standing in the road, the four youths entered the hotel. They glanced into the reading-room, and noted that over a dozen persons were present. Then Dave gave a low cry.

   "Look, boys! What do you think of that?"

   He pointed to one corner of the reading-room, where two persons sat on a leather couch, one with a newspaper in his hand.

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