"Why, yes," admitted the woman, with a sudden, wondering glance at Bart. "How did you know that?"
"I noticed the wagon wasn't in the shed."
"Oh, he sold it—and the horse."
"When, Mrs. Wacker?"
"Last night some men came here, two of them, about nine o'clock. They talked a long time in the sitting room, and then Lem went out and hitched up. He came into the kitchen before he went away, and told me he had a chance to sell the rig, and was going to do it, and had to go down to the Sharp Corner to treat the men and close the bargain."
"I see," murmured Bart. "Who were the men, Mrs. Wacker?"
"I don't know. One of them was here with Lem about two weeks ago, but I don't know his name, or where he lives. He don't belong in Pleasantville. Oh, dear!" she concluded, with a sigh of deep depression, "I wish Lem would get back on the road in a steady job, instead of scheming at this thing and that. He'll land us all in the poorhouse yet, for he spends all he gets down at the Corner."
Bart backed down the steps, feeling secretly that Lem Wacker would have a hard time disproving a connection with the burglary.
"Take care of the dog!" warned Mrs. Wacker as she closed the door.
Bart, passing a battered dog-house, found it tenantless, however.