“All right.  But we must hurry.  That fellow has got a good start, and he may even now be in the house.”

“Hardly.  He’ll want to take a look around first.”

Nevertheless, we lost no time in getting away from the tool house.  We walked side by side, I with the pistol in the pocket of my jacket, and Dick with the lantern held aloft, that we might see to make rapid progress over the unaccustomed road.

It was a good walk to the widow’s, and once Dick stumbled down in a heap, while the lantern rolled several yards away.  But he picked himself up without grumbling and went along faster than ever.

“If I’m not mistaken, I saw that tramp down at the depot this morning,” said he, as we drew near to the main road.  “He was hanging around, and I thought he looked like a suspicious character.”

“Did you see him yesterday?”

“No.”

“Did you ever hear of him before?”

“I guess not.  He was near the baggage room when I saw him.  Then Mr. Woodward came up to see about a trunk, and the tramp made right off.”

I was interested.  John Stumpy had intimately that he intended to have an interview with Duncan Woodward’s father, and if this was so, why had he not taken advantage of the opportunity thus offered?

I could arrive at but one conclusion.  The tramp wished their meeting to be a strictly private one.  He did not care to be seen in Mr. Woodward’s presence, or else the wealthy merchant would not tolerate such a thing.

If the meeting was to be of a private nature, it would no doubt be of importance.  Had my father’s name not been mentioned I would not have cared; but as it was, I was deeply interested.

Perhaps it would be better to merely scare the fellow off.  If he was captured, all chance of finding out his secrets might be lost.

By this time the reader may be aware that I thought John Stumpy’s secrets important.  Such was a fact.  Try as hard as I was able, I could not but imagine that they concerned my father and his alleged downfall.

In five minutes Dick and I came within sight of Widow Canby’s house.  There was a light burning in the kitchen and another in the dining-room.

“Everything seems to be all right,” said Dick, as we stood near a corner of the front fence.  “I guess the fellow hasn’t put in an appearance yet.”

“I don’t know.  See I the side porch door is open.  We generally keep it closed, and Kate would certainly have it shut if she was alone.”

“What do you intend to do?  Go into the house?”

“Guess we had better.  I’d like to know where that fellow is,” I replied.  “Likely as not he is prowling about here somewhere.  If we can only catch sight of him, we can—­ Hark!”

As I uttered the last word, a shrill cry reached our ears.  It was Kate’s voice; and with my heart jumping wildly I made a dash for the house, with Dick Blair following me.