America were even less known to him, but he was not
daunted on that account. He remembered Sherlock Holmes and Raffles; he
recalled Bill Sykes and Dubosc, dodging the operations of justice; and
in that romantic chamber that lurks somewhere in every man's make-up,
he felt that classic tradition had armed him with all the preparation
necessary for heroic achievement. He, Chamberlain, was unexpectedly
called upon to act as an agent of justice against chicanery and
violence, and it was not in him to shirk the task. His labors, which,
for the greater part of his life, had been expended in tracing the
evolution of blind fish in inland caves, had not especially fitted him
for dealing with the details of such a case as Agatha's; but they had
left him eminently well equipped for discerning right principles and
embracing them.

Chamberlain's first move was to visit Big Simon, who directed him to
the house of the justice of the peace, Israel Cady. Squire Cady, in
his shirt-sleeves and wearing an old faded silk hat, was in his side
yard endeavoring to coax the fruit down gently from a flourishing pear
tree.

"You wait just a minute, if you please, until I get these two plump
pears down, and I'll be right there," he called courteously, without
looking away from his long-handled wire scoop.

Mr. Chamberlain strolled into the yard, and after watching Squire
Cady's exertions for a minute or two, offered to wield the pole himself.

"Takes a pru-uty steady hand to get those big ones off without bruising
them," cautioned the squire.

But Chamberlain's hand was steadiness itself, and his eyesight much
keener than the old man's. The result was highly satisfactory. No
less than a dozen ripe pears were twitched off, just in the nick of
time, so far as the eater was concerned.

"Well, thank you, sir; thank you," said Squire Cady. "That just goes
to show what the younger generation can do. Now then, let's see. Got
any pockets?"

He picked out six of the best pears and piled them in Chamberlain's
hands, then took off his rusty, old-fashioned hat and filled it with
the rest of the fruit. Chamberlain carefully stowed his treasures into
the wide pockets of his tweed suit.

"Now, sir," Squire Cady said heartily, "we'll go into my office and
attend to business. I'm not equal to Cincinnatus, whom they found
plowing his field, but I can take care of my garden. Come in, sir,
come in."

Chamberlain followed the tall spare old fig