"
"Where did you hear about it, Mr. Cook?" inquired Hugh.
"Sergeant Riley just told me over the telephone; I had called him up to
inquire how Mr. Wernberg was getting along."
"How is he?" asked Bob.
"Pretty bad yet; once in a while he recovers consciousness, but only
for a few minutes. Besides he suffers so from his burns he can't do
any talking."
"And meanwhile his gang keeps on working," said Hugh.
"Is that fake detective part of his gang?" said Bob. "He's the one who
blew him up."
"I don't know," exclaimed Hugh in despair. "We just go 'round and 'round
in circles and don't seem to get anywhere at all."
"But the fact remains, doesn't it, boys," inquired Mr. Cook, "that
whether we know who the gang is, and what the relations are between the
two gangs--if there are two--that somebody is hard at work plotting
against this country? Also they are becoming bolder for they know that
their time is short; sooner or later they are bound to be caught."
"You're afraid for your factory to-night, aren't you, father?" asked Bob.
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