The shadows were lengthening.

“It’s too late for fishing now,” observed the boy as, unwittingly, he handed over the missive.  “That is, unless you’re going to set night lines.”

“I may have to do that,” the detective agreed.  “But it won’t be quite dark yet for some time.”

He glanced quickly at the envelope.  It bore no address on its plain, white surface, and under pretence of turning, so as to take advantage of the last golden glow in the west, the colonel quickly read the letter.  As he did so a look, almost of fright, came over his face.

“I wonder if she’ll keep her word,” he murmured.  “I wonder—­”

He slipped the letter quickly into another plain envelope, one of a miscellaneous collection of papers in his pocket, and returned it to the boy, retaining the covering he had been obliged to tear open, for it had been sealed.

“There you are,” he said.  “And you needn’t say anything to my friend about the fishing.  I want to surprise him.  Just don’t say anything about me.

“And here’s half a dollar, Sonny.  Could I hire you to take me to that brook you spoke of, where you say there are such big fish?”

“Sure you could,” the boy answered eagerly, as he pocketed the money.  “I know a lot about fishing.”

“All right.  I may call on you.  Trot along now, and remember—­don’t say anything.  This is to be a surprise!”

“Sure, I know,” and with a precocious wink the lad passed on into the ever lengthening shadows.

“I think,” observed the colonel to himself, as he watched the boy making his way back toward the station, “that I’ll make a little change in the old saying, and follow the woman instead of looking for her, since I know where she is already.”

Back then to the peaceful little village went the fisherman, and, reaching the house where the boy had left the note, taking therefrom its answer, Colonel Ashley waited with all the patience that might characterize a waiting beside some fishing stream.

But his patience was not tried long, for presently a veiled woman emerged from the house.  She walked away rapidly the detective following unseen.

“She is going to meet him, just as she promised in the note, though it must be galling to her pride,” murmured the old detective.  “I wonder if she really believes he’ll keep his word—­or can keep it?  Well, I’ll be there at the finish, and I think this will be the finish,” he went on grimly, as he thrust his hand into his side pocket, where the “hooks” jingled with grim music.

As the woman walked on, she turned now and then and looked back along the fast-darkening streets.

For a moment the colonel was suspicious.

“I wonder if she has seen me?” he murmured.

He gave a quick, backward glance, and started as he saw another figure not far behind him.

“Can it be?” exclaimed the colonel.  “No, it’s Aaron Grafton,” he proceeded with an air of relief.  “He must have been at her house, and she has asked him to follow her, to make sure no harm is done.  A bit foolish of him, under the circumstances.  But when a man’s in love—­”