s
reached; here they must have kept close under the wall, until they came
to the roadside fence, which they climbed. The fence bears freshly
scraped marks, as if made by boot heels in climbing over, and some tall
weeds, growing by the roadside, give evidence of having been hastily and
heavily trampled. The thieves probably returned after the robbery, in
the same way; for, one crossing of the fence would not have left so many
marks visible, either on the boards or among the weeds; and in the
darkness they fell a little eastward of their first course; for I find,
at the ditch again, but nearer to the river, the same footprints where
the ditch has been leaped, this time the footsteps going northward.

"It is probable that the thieves tramped northward under cover of the
darkness, until they struck the railroad at some previously selected
point, and from thence took the first train cityward."

The reading came thus abruptly to an end, and the reader looked up to
note the effect upon his hearers. They both sat in most attentive
attitudes, and each face wore an expression of puzzled astonishment. Not
being able to reach their "inner consciousness," and read the mental
comparisons there being drawn between this report and the very
dissimilar summing up of the tramp detective, Mr. Belknap drew his
inferences, as do we all, poor mortals that we are, seeing only the
outside of the cup and platter. He saw the surprise, the puzzled look,
that might denote a partial inability to grasp his thoughts and theories
at once, and a feeling of satisfaction took possession of the breast of
the astute detective.

Pausing for a comment, and receiving none, he said, with dignified
gravity:

"I trust that I have made my report sufficiently plain to you, ladies,
and that you find no flaw in it."

Constance, who with her keen sense of the ridiculous, had been fancying
the effect this report would have upon the detective in ambush, and
struggling hard with her own risibilities, mastered herself finally, and
preserving her gravity of expression, replied with a wicked undercurrent
of meaning:

"It is quite plain to me, sir; I am a poor critic of such matters, but I
should think it a masterpiece for directness and comprehensiveness."

"And you see nothing in the theory to object to? You think that working
from these findings, there will be a hope of success?" he queried.

Constance hesitated once more to consider her answer and collect hersel