“Gee, but that was good!” murmured Amy.  “I suppose I must have eaten awfully fast, for I don’t seem to want those eggs now.”

“How about the crullers?” asked Clint.

“They wouldn’t be half bad, would they?  Have some?” Clint nodded and four rather sad-looking rings of pastry appeared.  It was still only a quarter past seven and, since they could not continue their journey before nine-forty-six, they consumed the crullers and their second cups of coffee more leisurely.  The little restaurant began to get pretty smoky, and the combined odours of a dozen breakfasts, now that they had completed their own repasts, failed to delight them.  But they stayed on, hating the thought of the walk to the station, quite satisfied to remain there without moving in the warmth and cheerful bustle.  If they could have laid their heads against the wall and gone to sleep they’d have asked nothing more.  Amy nodded drowsily once or twice and Clint stared out the sunny window with the somnolent gaze of a well-fed cat.  It was, he reflected, a very beautiful world.  And then their pleasant day-dreams were disturbed by the sudden and rather boisterous entry of a big, broad-shouldered man who seemed to take entire possession of the restaurant and quite dwarf its size.

“Hello, boys!” The newcomer skimmed his hat dexterously to a peg, pulled out a chair with twice as much noise as usually accompanies such an operation and plumped his big body into it with a heartiness which almost set the dishes to rattling in the kitchen.  Everyone in the room except the two boys answered his greeting.

“Hello, Mike!  How’s the lad?”

“Fine!  And hungry to beat the band!  Can, you old rascal!  Where are you?  Fry me a couple of eggs and some bacon, Can, and draw one.”

“All right, Mike!” The proprietor’s pink face showed for an instant at the window.  The newcomer opened a morning paper with a loud rustling, beating the sheets into place with the flat of a huge hand.  “You fellows hear about the burglary?” he asked.

CHAPTER IX

UNDER SUSPICION

“Burglary?  No.  Where was it?” asked several voices.

“Black and Wiggin’s jewelry store.”

“What? Who says so?”

“I says so!  I seen it just now.”

“Saw the burglary?”

“Naw!  Saw where they’d cut a chunk out of the window and gone in.  Where you fellows been all morning?”

“Maybe you did it, Mike,” suggested a small man across the room, winking to his neighbour.

“Maybe I wished I had!” was the reply.  “They say they got away with nearly a thousand dollars’ worth of stuff.  Blew the safe, they did, and cleaned it out pretty.”

“That right?  When was this, Mike?”