tened, with growing interest as the justice, unperturbed by delays
and mistakes, finally succeeded in securing the desired number.

"This two-four-eight-Bridgeboro?" Pee-wee heard. "Sorry to get you up at
this hour. You Mr. James Bartlett? Yes. This is the peace justice
at--What? I say this is the peace justice--peace--yes this is the peace
justice--_justice of the peace_--at Piper's Crossroads, Noo York State.
What? Yes. Noo York State. Pipes? No _Piper's_--Piper's Crossroads. Was
your automobile stolen? Your automobile. What? I say was your auto--"

"Sure it was stolen," Pee-wee said; "you just mention--"

"Keep still. I say--was your automobile stolen--_STOLEN_? Well, it's
for your sake--what's that? All right."

There followed a pause. Justice Fee waited but did not address the
company. A dead silence reigned. They could hear the ticking of the big
grandfather's clock in the corner. Peter thought that signalling was
better than this. Ham thought how wonderful it was for a man to have so
much "book learning" that he could go right to the heart of a matter
like this. Pee-wee thought how, in about ten seconds, he would be able
to denounce these strangers, and appear as the real hero that he was. He
would ignore Peter Piper entirely and give Justice Fee an edifying
lecture on scouting. In about ten seconds they would all see....

"What's that?" said the justice, busy at the 'phone. "Your car is in
your garage? I say--what's that? Oh, you looked? Sure about that, eh?
Yes--yes--yes. You haven't got two cars? Six cars? Oh, six cylinders.
No--no.... It's all safe in your garage, you say? Yes. Well, sorry to
trouble you. No, not at all. Yes. All right. Good-bye."

Peter Piper looked at Pee-wee with a kind of awe. He had seen the other
thief escape in the darkness; everything had been exciting and confused.
But now, in the lamplight and within the safety of those four walls he
beheld a real crook, caught, cornered, at bay.

Justice Fee had simplified the whole thing, talking little, depending on
hard, cold facts. He had hit the vital spot of the whole mysterious
business. He had caught this little hoodlum satellite of thieves in an
ugly lie. Yet Peter Piper, who had in him the makings of a real scout,
was not happy. He had thought that he would be happy, but now he was
not.

"If--if you'll--maybe--if I could take him to my house," he began,
twitching his fingers nervously as he gazed wistfully at the Justice who
embod