“‘But Mr. Robinzer—­Sterson, I mean—­’ cut in Cap’n Jonadab, ’you could have ’em took up for stealin’, couldn’t you?  They wouldn’t dare—­’

“’’Course they’d dare!  S’pose they don’t know I wouldn’t have that agreement get in the papers?  Dare!  They’d dare anything.  If they get away with it, by hook or crook, all I can do is haul in my horns and compromise.  If they’ve got that paper, the suit never comes to trial.’

“‘Well, they ain’t got it yet,’ says Peter, decided.  ’Whoever stole the thing is right here in this boardin’-house, and it’s up to us to see that they stay here.  Barzilla, you take care of the mail.  No letters must go out to-night.  Jonadab, you set up and watch all hands, help and all.  Nobody must leave this place, if we have to tie em.  And I’ll keep a gen’ral overseein’ of the whole thing, till we get a detective.  And—­if you’ll stand the waybill, Mr. Sterzer—­we’ll have the best Pinkerton in Boston down here in three hours by special train.  By the way, are you sure the thing is lifted?  Where was it?’

“Old Gabe kind of colored up, and give in that ’twas under his pillow.  He always kept it there after the beds was made.

“‘Humph!’ grunts Brown.  ’Why didn’t you hang it on the door-knob?  Under the pillow!  If I was a sneak thief, the first place I’d look would be under the pillow; after that I’d tackle the jewelry box and the safe.’

“There was consider’ble more talk.  Seems the Sterzers had left Henry on guard, same as they always done, when they went to supper.  They could trust him and Suzette absolute, they said.  But Henry had gone down the hall after a drink of water, and when he had got back everything apparently was all right.  ’Twa’n’t till Gabe himself come up that he found the paper gone.  I judged he’d made it interestin’ for Henry; the poor critter looked that way.

“All hands agreed to keep mum for the present and to watch.  Peter hustled to the office and called up the Pinkertons over the long distance.”

Mr. Wingate paused.  Captain Sol was impatient.

“Go on,” he said.  “Don’t stop now, I’m gettin’ anxious.”

Barzilla rose to his feet.  “Here’s your McKay man back again,” he said.  “Let’s go up to your house and have breakfast.  We can talk while we’re eatin’.  I’m empty as a poorhouse boarder’s pocketbook.”

CHAPTER VI

AVIATION AND AVARICE

Breakfast at Capt.  Sol Berry’s was a bountiful meal.  The depot master employed a middle-aged woman who came in each day, cooked his meals and did the housework, returning to her own home at night.  After Mr. Wingate had mowed a clean swath through ham and eggs, cornbread and coffee, and had reached the cooky and doughnut stage, he condescended to speak further concerning the stolen paper.

“Well,” he said, “Brown give me and Jonadab a serious talkin’ to when he got us alone.”