"Where does he live?" asked Mr. Brandon.
"Just a little way up the street," replied the postmaster. "Come to the window here and I'll show you the house."
He pointed out a little cottage of rather dilapidated aspect, above which the keen eye of Mr. Brandon saw the end of an aerial.
He thanked the postmaster and went out to his party.
"I think we have our game bagged all right," he remarked, and rejoiced to see the light that came into Miss Berwick's eyes, "but of course I'm not sure as yet."
He told them the result of his inquiries, and they were delighted.
"I tell you what I think we had better do," he suggested. "I propose that we leave the automobile here and go up to the house on foot. Three of us will go in, while Miss Berwick and Mr. Wilson will stay out of sight at the side of the house until they get the sign to enter. The surprise may lead to confession and restitution if properly managed."
The others signified their consent to this and proceeded toward the house. Miss Berwick and her lawyer stood at the side, where they could not be seen from the door, and the inspector, followed by the boys, mounted the steps and rang the bell.
There was a moment's delay and then the door opened. A short thick-set man stood there with his hand on the knob. He wore large horn glasses, which may have been because of defective sight or possibly as a disguise. The eyes behind the glasses were furtive and shifty, and the mouth was mean and avaricious.
"Is this Mr. Reddy?" asked the inspector politely.