“Say, Wick,” began the marshal mysteriously, “I’m up a stump.”

“What?  Another?”

“No; jest the same one.  I almost got track of somethin’ to-day—­not two hours ago.  I met a man out yander near the cross-roads that I’m sure I seen aroun’ here about the time Rosalie was left on the porch.  An’ the funny part of it was, he stopped me an’ ast me about her.  Doggone, I wish I’d ast him his name.”

“You don’t mean it!” cried Bonner, all interest.  “Asked about her?  Was he a stranger?”

“I think he was.  Leastwise, he said he hadn’t been aroun’ here fer more’n twenty year.  Y’see, it was this way.  I was over to Lem Hudlow’s to ask if he had any hogs stole last night—­Lem lives nigh the poorhouse, you know.  He said he hadn’t missed any an’ ast me if any hogs had been found.  I tole him no, not that I knowed of, but I jest thought I’d ask; I thought mebby he’d had some stole.  You never c’n tell, you know, an’ it pays to be attendin’ to business all the time.  Well, I was drivin’ back slow when up rode a feller on horseback.  He was a fine-lookin’ man ‘bout fifty year old, I reckon, an’ was dressed in all them new-fangled ridin’ togs.  ’Ain’t this Mr. Crow, my old friend, the detective?’ said he.  ‘Yes, sir,’ said I.  ’I guess you don’t remember me,’ says he.  I told him I did, but I lied.  It wouldn’t do fer him to think I didn’t know him an’ me a detective, don’t y’see?

“We chatted about the weather an’ the crops, him ridin’ longside the buckboard.  Doggone, his face was familiar, but I couldn’t place it.  Finally, he leaned over an’ said, solemn-like:  ’Have you still got the little girl that was left on your porch?’ You bet I jumped when he said that.  ‘Yes,’ says I, ’but she ain’t a little girl now.  She’s growed up.’  ‘Is she purty?’ he ast.  ‘Yes,’ says I, ‘purty as a speckled pup!’ ‘I’d like to see her,’ he said.  ’I hear she was a beautiful baby.  I hope she is very, very happy.’  ‘What’s that to you?’ says I, sharp-like.  ’I am very much interested in her, Mr. Crow,’ he answered.  ’Poor child, I have had her in mind for a long time,’ he went on very solemn.  I begin to suspect right away that he had a lot to do with her affairs.  Somehow, I couldn’t help thinkin’ I’d seen him in Tinkletown about the time she was dropped—­left, I mean.

“‘You have given her a good eddication, I hope,’ said he.  ’Yes, she’s got the best in town,’ said I.  ’The thousand dollars came all right every year?’ ‘Every February.’  ’I should like to see her sometime, if I may, without her knowin’ it, Mr. Crow.’  ‘An’ why that way, sir?’ demanded I.  ‘It would probably annoy her if she thought I was regardin’ her as an object of curiosity,’ said he.  ‘Tell her fer me,’ he went on’ gittin’ ready to whip up, ’that she has an unknown friend who would give anything he has to help her.’  Goshed, if he didn’t put the gad to his horse an’ gallop off ‘fore I could say another word.  I was goin’ to ask him a lot of questions, too.”