“Thank you Uncle Enos, thank you!” I cried heartily.  “Some day I’ll pay you back.”

“I don’t want it back, my lad.  If you can catch any proofs that will help clear your father, I shall be more than satisfied.”

“And when shall you go?” asked Kate.

“I don’t know.  It will depend on my interview with Mr. Woodward and also on what John Stumpy does.  Not inside of several days, at least.  Besides, we want to see father first, you know.”

“Of course.”

“We can go to Trenton tomorrow,” said Uncle Enos.  At Trenton was located the State prison.  After consulting a time table printed in the Darbyville Record, we found we could catch a train for that city at 8.25 from Newville the next morning, and this we decided to take.

Having settled this matter, we returned again to the discussion of the incidents surrounding the robbery, and what would probably be the next movements of those fighting against me.  Uncle Enos grew greatly interested, and said he knew a lawyer in New York who might secure some good private detective who could take the case in hand.

Finally it came half past eight, and putting on my hat, I started for Mr. Woodward’s residence.

CHAPTER XVIII

 In Mr. Woodward’s library

Though outwardly calm, I was considerably agitated as I walked to Darbyville.  Why the merchant had sent for me I could not surmise.  Of course it was on account of the robbery, but so far as I knew both of us had taken a separate stand, and neither would turn back.  I thought it barely possible that he wished to intimidate me into receding from my position.  He was as much of a bully in his way as Duncan, and would not hesitate to use every means in his power to bring me to terms.

Arriving at Mr. Woodward’s house, I ascended the steps and rang the bell.

“Is Mr. Woodward in?” I asked of the girl who answered the summons.

“I’ll see, sir,” she replied.  “Who shall I say it is?”

“Roger Strong.”

The girl left me standing in the hall.  While waiting for her return I could not help but remember the old lines:—­

  " ‘Will you walk into my parlor?’
     Said the spider to the fly.”

But if I was walking into the spider’s parlor, it would be my own fault if I got hurt, for I was entering with my eyes open.  I determined to be on my guard, and take nothing for granted.

“Mr. Woodward will be pleased to see you in his library,” said the girl upon her return, and then, having indicated the door, she vanished down the back hall.

As I put my hand upon the door-knob, I heard steps upon the stairs, and looking up saw Duncan Woodward descending.

His face was still swollen from the punishment I had inflicted upon him.  Nevertheless, he was faultlessly dressed in full evening costume, and I rightly conjectured he was going to spend the night in some fashionable dissipation such as dancing or card-playing.