near," volunteered Mr. Pike.

"I was gettin' night-walkers," said Will.

"Night-walkers?" repeated Garrison. "People?"

"Fishin' worms," supplied Mr. Pike. "Angleworms walk at night and Will
gits 'em for bait. Goes out with a dark lantern and picks 'em up."

"I see," said Garrison. "What sort of a looking person was the man who
got into Mrs. Wilson's house?"

"A little shaver, that's all I could see," said the youthful angler.

The description tallied closely with all that Garrison had heard before
of Hiram Cleave, or Foster Durgin.

"Very good," he said. "Did you see what he did in the room?"

"Didn't do nuthin' but steal a couple of cigars," informed the disciple
of Walton. "He wasn't there more'n about a minute."

"But he _did_ steal a couple of cigars?" echoed Garrison, keenly alert
to the vital significance of this new evidence. "Did he take them from
the table?"

"Nope. Took 'em out of a box."

"Then came out by the window and departed?"

"Yep, he sneaked."

"Why didn't you tell anyone of this before?"

"Nobody asked me."

"And he ain't got no use for Mrs. Wilson, nor she for him,"
supplemented the coroner. "But I thought you ought to know."

"Would you know the man again if you should see him?" Garrison inquired.

"Sure."

"Do you know where he went when he left the house, or yard? Did you
follow him at all?"

"No, the night-walkers was too thick."

Garrison knew the lay of the yard at Mrs. Wilson's. He knew the room.
There was no particular reason for visiting the scene again. There was
nothing, in fact, to do at all except to visit the dealer in New York
who had sold the cigars to Dorothy, and hope for news of Foster Durgin
or the speedy arrival of the photograph of Cleave, which the old man in
Rockdale had promised. He asked one more question.

"Was he young or old?"

"Don't know," said Will, grinning. "He didn't say."

Garrison rose to go.

"This is all of the utmost importance. I may be obliged to have you
come down to New York--if I can find the man. But when you come it
will be at my expense."

"The fishin's awful good right now," objected Will. "I don't know
about New York."

"You can pick yourself out a five-dollar rod," added Garrison. "I'll
wire you when to come."

Garrison left for Albany at once. He found himself obliged to take a
roundabout course which brought him there late in the night.

In the morning he succeeded in running down a John W.