got me down bad, boys, but here goes to show you
that there is some good left in Bill Daly.'"

In point of fact, Bill had never given the boys a thought when he made
his plunge for the ladder. But the look of exaltation, as Frank called
it, was there nevertheless. Its source was higher than Frank gave him
credit for.

"Now I maintain," asserted Frank, "that the fellow was glad of the
chance to set himself right with the Club. And from what he hinted at,
I'm certain, too, that he did something to 'queer' us with Father
Boone, something pretty bad, too, for I never before knew Father Boone
to take such measures as he has in this affair."

"You're a regular Sherlock Holmes, old man," observed Dick.

"Sherlock Holmes or not," said Frank, "you'll find out before this thing
is settled that I'm right. A man like Father Boone does not change his
character over night. Something has happened to make him take this
attitude, and I'd give my hat to know what it is."

Frank's hat may not have been worth much, but it seemed to be the limit
of his disposable property--to judge by the extreme earnestness with
which he risked it. At all events the boys felt that Frank was keenly
convinced of his position, and as he was always careful about his
conclusions, they were inclined to agree with him.

(IX)

In this frame of mind the chums parted. The others went directly home.
Frank made some excuse for loitering and as soon as they were gone, took
his way in the direction of the hospital. It was fully ten o'clock, and
the hospital was nearly a mile off. He had to walk, but by a combination
of brisk walking and occasional sprints, he got to the place in short
time.

Everything was quiet about the immense building. In the main vestibule
Frank found a matter-of-fact, middle-aged man standing behind a desk,
over which was a sign--"Bureau of Information." Several people were
seated on a long bench nearby, waiting to be conducted to friends or
relatives who were patients, or to get word of their condition.

Frank approached the desk timidly, and said to the clerk, "May I ask,
sir, how William Daly is?"

At the words 'William Daly,' there was a scream and a flutter from the
bench, and in a moment a woman stood before Frank and put her arms about
him, crying as she did so, "Do you know my Willie? Are you one of Father
Boone's boys?" Without waiting for an answer, she went on, with sobs and
exclamations, to give a fond mother's estimate