“Has it occurred to you that the real leader was in this neighbourhood at the time?  In Boggs City, let us say.  According to Rosa—­Miss Gray’s story, the man Sam went out nightly for instructions.  Well, he either went to Boggs City or to a meeting place agreed upon between him and his superior.  It is possible that he saw this person on the very night of my own adventure.  Now, the thing for us to do is to find out if a stranger was seen in these parts on that night.  The hotel registers in Boggs City may give us a clew.  If you don’t mind, Mr. Crow, I’ll have this New York detective, who is coming up to-morrow, take a look into this phase of the case.  It won’t interfere with your plans, will it?” asked Bonner, always considerate of the feelings of the good-hearted, simple-minded old marshal.

“Not at all, an’ I’ll help him all I can, sir,” responded Anderson magnanimously.  “Here, Eva, here’s a letter fer Rosalie.  It’s the second she’s had from New York in three days.”

“It’s from Miss Banks.  They correspond, Anderson,” said Mrs. Crow.

“And say, Eva, I’ve decided on one thing.  We’ve got to calculate on gittin’ along without that thousand dollars after this.”

“Why, An—­der—­son Crow!”

“Yep.  We’re goin’ to find her folks, no matter if we do have to give up the thousand.  It’s no more’n right.  She’ll be twenty-one in March, an’ I’ll have to settle the guardeenship business anyhow.  But, doggone it, Mr. Bonner, she says she won’t take the money we’ve saved fer her.”

“She has told me as much, Mr. Crow.  I think she’s partly right.  If she takes my advice she will divide it with you.  You are entitled to all of it, you know—­it was to be your pay—­and she will not listen to your plan to give all of it to her.  Still, I feel that she should not be penniless at this time.  She may never need it—­she certainly will not as long as you are alive—­but it seems a wise thing for her to be protected against emergencies.  But I dare say you can arrange that between yourselves.  I have no right to interfere.  Was there any mail for me?”

“Yep.  I almost fergot to fork it over.  Here’s one from your mother, I figger.  This is from your sister, an’ here’s one from your—­your sweetheart, I reckon.  I deduce all this by sizin’ up the—­” and he went on to tell how he reached his conclusions, all of which were wrong.  They were invitations to social affairs in Boston.  “But I got somethin’ important to tell you, Mr. Bonner.  I think a trap is bein’ set fer me by the desperadoes we’re after.  I guess I’m gittin’ too hot on their trail.  I had an ananymous letter to-day.”

“A what?”

“Ananymous letter.  Didn’t you ever hear of one?  This one was writ fer the express purpose of lurin’ me into a trap.  They want to git me out of the way.  But I’ll fool ’em.  I’ll not pay any attention to it.”

“Goodness, Anderson, I bet you’ll be assassinated yet!” cried his poor wife.  “I wish you’d give up chasin’ people down.”