WORK OF THE YOUNG DETECTIVE.
That evening a group of somewhat doleful-looking boys gathered in front
of the Oakdale post-office and shivered as they discussed the game.
Without a single dissenting voice they blamed Sage for their failure to
win from Barville.
Sleuth Piper appeared, hurried into the post-office and presented
himself at the delivery window.
“Look a’ the businesslike bustle of the great detective,” said Crane,
watching Piper through the window. “Anyone would sorter s’pose he
expected to receive about a bushel of important mail. I bet he don’t get
a thing.”
“You lose,” said Hunk Rollins, as a letter was passed out to Sleuth.
“He’s got something.”
Before opening the letter, Piper was seen eagerly scanning the postmark
upon the envelope, and the watchers fancied there was an expression of
mingled excitement and satisfaction upon his face. Coming forth, Sleuth
paused in front of a lighted window a short distance from the others and
tore his letter open. In a moment he was eagerly intent upon the
contents.
“Hi! Who’s the girl, Sleuthy?” called Jack Nelson. “Let us read it, will
you?”
“’Sh!” sibilated Chub Tuttle, spluttering forth munched peanuts with a
hissing sound. “The great detective has a scent.”
“Huh!” grunted Cooper, with a forced laugh. “If that’s so, he’s better
off than I am. I bet on the game, and I haven’t a cent.”
“Look,” urged Nelson—“look at Sleuthy’s face! He’s excited. By Jinks!
that letter must be rather interesting.”
“I’ll get a peep at it,” said Harry Hopper. “I’ll tell you if it’s a
girl’s writing.”
But, although he tiptoed forward with great caution, Sleuth detected his
approach, and, having finished reading the letter, hastily folded the
missive and thrust it into his pocket.
“Go chase yourself, Mr. Sly Boy,” he said, waving Hopper off. “Rubbering
will give you a cramp in the neck sometime.”
Roy Hooker, looking decidedly glum, came slouching along, his hands
thrust deep into his pockets. Immediately Sleuth pounced upon him.
“Just the man I’m looking for,” said Piper, in almost tragic tones.
Roy drew away, seeking to shake Sleuth’s hand from his shoulder.
“Well, I’m not looking for you,” he retorted. “I’ve no particular use
for you, Piper.”
“Come now,” said Sleuth, “I wish to hold a private consultation with you
on a matter of immense moment.”
“Run away and consult with yourself,” snapped Roy. “I don’t like your
company, and you know the reason why.”
But Sleuth grabbed at him again as he made a move to pass on.
“Wait,” whispered Piper. “Perhaps you’d like to know what was the matter
with Sage to-day? I can tell you.”
“The deuce you can!”
“I can,” insisted the other boy. “I’ve solved the mystery.”
“Well, if you know what ailed him, why don’t you tell? I’m sure I’m not
the only one who would like to have the matter cleared up.”
“It’s not a subject for the public ear, Hooker; it’s something to be
talked over privately and discreetly between ourselves. If you want to
know what I know, you’ll just take a little walk with me to some spot
where we’ll be all by our lonesomes. If you don’t want to know, if you
haven’t got any interest in Sage and his affairs, you needn’t bother.”
To say the least, Roy’s curiosity was aroused.
“I’ll wager it will be a waste of time,” he said; “but I’ll listen. What
have you done, concocted some sort of fool deduction about it?”
“I have the straight, solid, indisputable facts right in my inside
pocket. I can tell you something about the Sages that will make your
hair curl. Where shall we go?”
“You say.”
“Down to the bridge. There’s not likely to be anybody around there.”
It was somewhat chilly upon the bridge which spanned the river below
Lake Woodrim, and Hooker’s teeth were inclined to chatter as he leaned
against the railing and invited his companion to “divulge.”
“To begin with,” said Piper, “I want to ask you a question, and I hope
you’ll give me an honest answer. You’ve been mighty chummy with Sage,
and I have a notion that he gave me away by telling you that I was
trying to make a ten-strike by capturing a certain criminal for whom a
large reward is offered. Am I right, or not?”
“Whatever Fred has told me in confidence, I’ll not blow on him. If it
was your object to pump me, Piper, you’re wasting your time—and mine.”
“You don’t have to answer,” said Sleuth instantly. “Your failure to give
me a fair and square reply is sufficient. Sage told you. I knew he
would. Well, I don’t care. I’ve got something to tell you now, and, as I
said, it will make your hair curl.”
He paused impressively, apparently desiring Roy to urge him to go on;
but Hooker, shrugging his shoulders a bit, waited the promised
revelation.
“I want to ask one more question,” said Piper, “and you’ll not betray a
confidence by giving me an answer. Saturday, one week ago, while out
hunting with Sage, you encountered a certain mysterious stranger in the
woods beyond Culver’s Bridge. You talked with the man face to face and
had a fine opportunity to look him over thoroughly. Tell me, did he bear
any personal resemblance to your friend, Sage?”
“Huh!” grunted Roy. “Resemblance? What do you mean?”
“Did he look as if he might be a relative?”
“Why, I—I don’t know. What in the world are you trying to get at, Pipe?”
“That man professed to know the Sages and made inquiries about them.
Nevertheless, at the approach of Fred he ran away, and, although he
pretended to you that he was looking for work hereabouts, as far as I
can learn he has not attempted to obtain employment, and has not been
publicly seen since that day.”
“If you have an idea that he was some relative of the Sages, the mere
fact that he has not been seen seems to knock your theory into a cocked
hat.”
“When I place you in full possession of the facts,” returned Piper, in a
lofty and superior manner, “you’ll perceive that the man’s care not to
attract public attention strengthens the foundations of my theory. You
have not answered my question. Did he look like Fred Sage?”
“In some respects he may have borne a slight resemblance. He had blue
eyes, and Fred’s eyes are blue. But that’s nothing. Come across with
your dope that’s going to make my hair curl.”
“Doesn’t it occur to you as very singular that so little is really known
about the past history of the Sages? This family, consisting of father,
mother and one son, came to Oakdale something like three years ago and
settled here. Yet who is there in this town that can tell where they
came from and how they happened to come? You’re chummy with the
before-mentioned son, Hooker. How much has he ever told you about his
past?”
“Oh, say, Sleuth, if you’re trying to fasten a dark and terrible past
upon Fred Sage, you’ll do nothing but make yourself ridiculous. Why,
anybody knows that he’s been one of the openest, frankest fellows in the
world.”
“Huh! Is that so?” sneered Piper. “Really, he may appear to be all that
you claim, Hooker, but appearances, you should know, are often most
deceptive. Mr. Andrew Sage has the bearing of a country gentleman in
moderate circumstances. Mrs. Sage is apparently a most estimable lady.
These people are regular churchgoers, and have the respect of their
townsfolk. Nevertheless, since living here they have never become
especially intimate with anyone, and you must admit that they are rather
reserved.”
“Aw, rot!” exploded Roy in exasperation. “Simply because people don’t
choose to go about telling everybody their business and all their past
history, you get the notion that they must have some guilty secret they
are trying to cover up. That comes from reading the kind of trash with
which you stuff your mind, Piper.”
“In a very few minutes,” retorted Sleuth, “I’ll make it necessary for
you to take back some of your slurs, Mr. Hooker. You know what country
people are. You know that gossip is one of their chief delights. As a
rule, let a strange family move into a town like Oakdale, and within
thirty days more than fifty per cent of the inhabitants of that place
are conversant with the history of those people as far back as it can be
traced. When the Sages came here the usual curious gossips attempted to
learn things about them. They failed. To me that’s a guarantee that the
Sages, for good and sufficient reasons, desired to keep their family
history from being probed. This thought has occurred to me more than
once, and many a time I’ve told myself that a little investigation of
the before-mentioned Sages might prove interesting to a sensational
degree. Recently I decided to investigate.”
“In other words, you decided to pry into affairs which did not concern
you in the least. Poor business, Piper. The fellow who persists in
poking his nose into a crack is sure to get it pinched some day.”
Not the least ruffled, Sleuth retorted: “The person who puts himself to
extreme trouble to hide his past must have a guilty secret. Sometimes
there are wolves in sheep’s clothing, and for the public weal they
should be exposed. In order to obtain information regarding the Sages,
it was necessary to learn where they came from when they moved to this
town.”
“And you found out?”
“Having decided on a course of action, I never permit anything to baffle
me.”
“How did you do it?”
“Oh, one day I dropped in on Mrs. Sage for a little social call. Fred
wasn’t home, so I waited for him; and, while waiting, I made myself
comfortable, at the lady’s invitation, in the sitting-room. I knew there
must be in that house something which would give me the clue I sought.
It was not long before I discovered the very thing, a family photograph
album. While seemingly amusing myself by looking at the pictures in that
album, I slipped several of them from their places and looked for the
imprint of the photographer. There were pictures of Mr. and Mrs. Sage,
and also of Fred, taken some years ago. Those pictures, I found, bore
the name of a photographer in the town of Rutledge, State of New York. I
lost little time in writing a letter to the postmaster of Rutledge, New
York, making inquiries concerning the Sages. I asked if they had ever
lived in that town. In case they had, I politely requested information
concerning the entire family. To insure an answer, I enclosed a stamped
and addressed envelope.”
“And did you get an answer?”
“Sure,” exulted Piper. “I received it to-night. I have it in my pocket
now. The information it contains is of the most sensational character.
It clears up the mystery of the Sages, and also, I firmly believe, fixes
the identity of the mysterious man you met beyond Culver’s Bridge.”