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a puzzle it were, de bettah yo' laiked it!" ventured Shag. Colonel Ashley tried to repress a smile. "Get to bed, you black rascal!" he said with an affectionate pat on Shag's back. "Get to bed! What are you staying up so late for, anyhow?" "To gib yo' a message, Colonel, sah," answered Shag. "Miss Viola done say I was t' wait up, an', when yo' come in, t' tell yo' dat she wants t' see you." "Oh, all right. Where is she?" "In de liberry, Colonel, sah!" The detective made his way through the dimly-lighted hall, and, on tapping at the library door, was bidden by Viola to enter. "Still up?" he asked. "It was time for you to be asleep long ago if you want your eyes to keep as bright as they always are." "They don't feel very bright," she answered, with a little laugh. "They seem to be full of sticks. But I wanted to ask you something--to consult with you--and I didn't want to go to sleep without doing it. I want you to read these," and she spread out before him the letters she had found hidden in the drawer of the safe. Colonel Ashley, in silence, looked over one document after another, including the torn ones. When he had finished he looked across the table at Viola. "What do you make of it?" she asked. "I don't know," he frankly confessed. "But we must find out if your father owed the captain anything--for money advanced in an emergency, or for anything else. Who would know about the money affairs?" "Mr. Blossom. He has full charge of the office now, and access to all the books. Aunt Mary and I have to trust to him for everything. It is all we can do." "Yes, I suppose so," agreed the detective. And he did not speak of the scene of which he had recently been a witness. "Then if you will come with me, we will go the first thing in the morning to father's office and see LeGrand Blossom," decided Viola. "We will ask Mr. Blossom if he knows anything about the debt between my father and Captain Poland." "It would be wise, I think." And as the colonel retired that night he said, musingly: "Another angle, and another tangle. I must read a little Izaak Walton to compose my mind." So he opened the little green book and read this observation from the Venator: "And as for the dogs that we use, who can commend their excellency to that height which they deserve? How perfect is the hound at smelling, who never leaves or forsakes his first scent, but follows it through so many changes and varie
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