, to which they had been
sent by Major de Trouville, but when they inquired for the Gleasons the
landlady, who remembered the boys, stared at them in surprise, and said:

"Why, Madam Gleason and her daughter are not here! They went out this
morning to meet you, and have not come back!"

"To meet us?" gasped Jack.

"Yes, in answer to your note bidding them do so!"

CHAPTER XVII

SEEKING THE GUN

Tom and Jack gazed blankly at one another. The same thought was in the
minds of both.

"The spy!"

"That's who did it," declared Tom. "He forged our names to a note--no
hard task since neither Bessie nor her mother knows our writing very
well--and he's induced them to go some place where he could get them in
his power again."

"But why?" asked Jack.

"Probably because Potzfeldt wanted him to do it. He still has his eye on
Mrs. Gleason's property, I presume, if there is any left after his
robbery."

"It certainly is tough to think that Bessie and her mother have again
fallen into his clutches!" exclaimed Jack. "And we can't do a thing to
rescue them. We've got to report with the others in the morning at the
new aerodrome."

"Yes, but we still have to-night free!" cried Tom. "It will give us
several hours to make a search, and we'll do it! Do you know where Mrs.
Gleason and Bessie went in response to this forged note?" he asked the
landlady.

She mentioned a certain restaurant, not far away, where Tom and his chum
had frequently eaten with Mrs. Gleason and her daughter.

"She was rather surprised to get the note from you," said the landlady,
"and wondered why you didn't come yourself. But she supposed it had
something to do either with your search for your father or with war
matters, so she did not question the messenger. I heard her mention the
place where she and Bessie were going, or I would not know."

"How long ago was it?" asked Jack.

"Oh, just before luncheon time. And they haven't come back."

"The scoundrels have a long start of us!" exclaimed Jack. "We'll have to
do the best we can."

"Better notify the police at once," suggested Tom. "We'll need their
help."

"That's right," agreed his chum.

Their uniform was an open sesame to the police officials, and a
detective was at once detailed to go with the boys to the restaurant.
There, as might have been expected, there was no news. The spy, or
whoever Potzfeldt's agent was, had been too clever for that. All that
could be learned from a t