“None at all,” reported Ralph, and recited the events of the past fifteen or twenty minutes.
“That’s pretty lively going,” commented Mr. Little, looking Ralph over with an approving and interested glance. “I managed to limp this far. I’ve wrenched my foot. I don’t think it amounts to much, but it is quite painful. I’ll rest here a bit and see if it doesn’t mend.”
“Shall I help you to the house, Mr. Little?” suggested Ralph.
“Maybe--a little later. I want to know about this business first--the smashed window and those burglars. Come, sit down here on the bench with me and tell me all about it, Fairbanks.”
“They are not burglars,” asserted Ralph.
“What are they, then?”
“What I hurriedly hinted to you some time back--spies.”
“Spies?”
“Yes.”
“What do you mean by that?”