goin' to Denboro? _I_ never knew it till after we
started. When we left port I supposed 'twas Trumet we was bound for, but
we hadn't much more'n got under way when Mr. Phillips says he's changed
his mind and wants to come over here. Didn't make no difference to _me_,
of course. I get my wages, Saturday nights, just the same whether----"

"Where is Phillips now?"

"I was tellin' you. So we came about and headed for Denboro. Next thing
we had to haul up abreast of that old tumbledown shed at the end of
Tabby Crosby's lot there by the meetin'-house while Mr. Phillips hopped
out and got a couple of great big satchels he'd left there. Big as
trunks they was, pretty nigh, and time he got them stowed in here there
wan't no room for knees nor feet nor nawthin' else seurcely. But,
finally----"

"Hold on! Why did he have his dunnage in Tabitha Crosby's shed?"

"That's what _I_ couldn't make out. He said he left 'em there so's not
to have to go out of our way to get 'em at Joe Macomber's. But it's
about as nigh to Joe's as 'tis to Tabby's, seems to me. Seemed funny
enough, that did, but 'twan't no funnier than comin' way over to the
Denboro depot to take the same train he might have took just as well at
Bayport. _I_ couldn't make it out. Can you, Cap'n Kendrick?"

"Did you leave him at the Denboro depot?"

"Yus. 'Bout an hour ago, or such matter. And the up train ain't due till
four, and it's only half-past twelve now. I stopped at the Denboro House
to get some diner. A feller has to eat once in a while, even if he ain't
rich. And talk about chargin' high prices! All I had was some chowder
and a piece of pie and tea, and I swan if they didn't stick me
thirty-five cents! Yes, sir, thirty-five cents! And the pie was
dried-apple at that. Don't talk to me no more about that Denboro House!
If I ever----"

Kendrick heard no more. He was on his way to the railway station at
Denboro. The mystery of the valises was, in one way, explained; in
another it was more mysterious than ever. Evidently Phillips must have
taken them from his rooms either early that morning or during the
night--probably the latter--and hidden them in the Crosby shed. But why?

Denboro was a sleepy little village and at that hour on that raw
December day the railway station was as sleepy as the rest of it. The
station agent, who was also the telegraph operator, was locking his door
preparatory to going home for dinner. He and the captain were old
acquaintance