They could not be quite happy, for the news of the murder of
Barney Mulloy still cast its shadow.
"When does the next boat leave for New York?" Frank asked of the
operator.
"To-morrow noon."
"We can drive through to Sea Cove?"
"Yes."
"And when does a train leave Sea Cove?"
"To-morrow at six-forty-five and ten-thirty."
As they were very tired, it was decided, therefore, that they would
remain in Glen Springs until early the next morning, when they would
drive to Sea Cove, make inquiries there about Barney, and take the
ten-thirty train. The hotel at Glen Springs was small, but it looked
clean and inviting.
"What do you know about the murder of a young Irishman named Barney
Mulloy, by tramps near Sea Cove, day before yesterday?" Merry inquired.
"Only what the papers said," was the operator's answer.
"And no one else in the village can tell us?"
"I think not."
The hotel was in the suburbs, having a view of the sea, and was really a
summer hotel more than anything else. It had very few guests as yet.
From it a number of messages were sent to New York and received from
there by our friends that evening--messages from Elsie and Mr. Burrage,
and from other members of the party that had been on the _Merry Seas_.
Though fairly tired out by his exhausting experiences, from which the
long hours on the fishing-sloop had not enabled him to recuperate, Frank
Merriwell was not able to sleep until a late hour.
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