“I had better tell you the whole story, Mr. Little.”
“That’s it, Fairbanks.”
Ralph began with the queer-acting trio who had first attracted his suspicions several days previous. He did not leave out the details of his interview with the assistant superintendent at Rockton.
“Why, Fairbanks,” exclaimed the paymaster, arising to his feet in positive excitement, “this is a pretty serious business.”
“It strikes me that way, sir.”
“If these two men were not incidental burglars, and nothing is missing at the house, they were after information.”
“Instead of booty, exactly,” responded Ralph, in a tone of conviction.
“And if that is true,” continued the paymaster, still more wrought up, “they show a system of operation that means some big design in their mind. Give me the help of your shoulder, Fairbanks. I’ve got to get to the house and to my telephone right away.”
A detour of the walled-in runway was necessary in order that they might reach Mr. Little’s home. The paymaster limped painfully. Ralph himself winced under the weight of his hand placed upon his shoulder, but he made no complaint. His right arm was growing stiff and the fingers of that hand he had noticed were covered with blood.
By the time they reached the paymaster’s home, his family had returned. Mr. Little led Ralph at once to the library and sank into his armchair at the desk.