But his sense of guilt would not let him rest, and in the thought that Bob might seek some lawyer and place the matter in his hands, which would mean a visit to the grocery store and the necessity of making embarrassing explanations, the dishonest guardian determined to go away for a few hours at least.  No sooner had he made up his mind upon this course of action than he seized his hat, stole from his room, glided across the floor to the front door, listened a moment for the sound of voices, or any other indication that people were passing, then hurriedly turned the key in the door, stepped outside, locked the door again, and after a furtive glance up and down the street, slunk away, keeping close to the buildings, for all the world like a dog that was hounded, rather than a man.

It was because of this action on the part of Mr. Dardus in closing his store that Foster was unable to gain admittance when he arrived half an hour later, having come for the purpose of seeing the boy he had championed so effectively, and of assisting in a reconciliation between the ward and the guardian, in case it had not already been accomplished.  On his way, his mind had pictured many scenes in which the boy and the grocer were participants, but none of them had contained the possibility of the store being closed.  And it was with distinct surprise that he found the door locked, and was unable to arouse any one by his vigorous pounding upon the weather-worn panels.

“I wonder what it means,” said the reporter to himself.  “Perhaps Bob didn’t come back, and the old man, repenting of his refusing to go to his ward’s assistance, is on his way either to the police station or to the court.”

His occupation, however, necessitated his being resourceful, and, seeing an elderly woman peering at him closely from a window of the neighboring house, Foster hastened toward her.

Bowing politely, he asked: 

“Have you seen anything of Mr. Dardus, or Bob Chester?”

“Uhuh!  I seen ’em both,” replied the woman, nodding her head, as though to confirm her words.  But though Foster remained silent in the hope that she would add to this information, he was at length obliged to renew his questions, as she vouchsafed nothing more.

“Were they together?”

“No.”

“Which way were they going—­in the same direction?”

“No.  Bob ran up the street as though the police were after him.”

“Then Mr. Dardus was chasing him,” suggested Foster, jumping at the conclusion that Bob and his guardian had had angry words, that the boy had run away, and that his guardian had gone in pursuit.

“No, he wasn’t.  He came out about twenty minutes after Bob had gone, and went in the opposite direction.”

This response puzzled the reporter, as he could think of no plausible explanation, but his thoughts were diverted by the old woman, who demanded: 

“What’s wrong, mister?”