"It means that Mr. Petrofsky was at breakfast when they burst in on him,
and took him away. They had hard work overpowering him, I'll wager, for
he could put up a pretty good fight. And the broken furniture is
evidence of that. Then the spies, after tying him up, or putting him in
a carriage, searched the house for incriminating papers. That's as plain
as the nose on your face. Then the police agents, or whoever they were,
skipped out in a hurry, not taking the trouble to close the windows and
doors."

"I believe it did happen that way," agreed Ned, who clearly saw what Tom
meant. "But what can we do? How can we find him?"

"By getting on the trail," answered his chum quickly. "There may be more
clews in the house, and I'm sure there'll be some out of doors, for they
must have left footprints or the marks of carriage wheels. We'll take a
look, and then we'll get right on the search. I'm not going to let them
take Mr. Petrofsky to Russia if I can help it. I want to get after that
platinum, and he's the only one who can pilot us anywhere near the
place; and besides, there's his brother we've got to rescue. We'll make
a search for the exile."

"I'm with you!" cried Ned. "Jove! Wouldn't it be great if we could
rescue him? They can't have gotten very far with him."

"I'm afraid they have quite a start on us," admitted Tom with a dubious
shake of his head, "but as long as they're in the United States we have
a chance. If ever they get him on Russian soil it's all up with him."

"Come on then!" cried Ned. "Let's get busy. What's the first thing to
do?"