Brad joined him.
“What are you doing?” he asked.
“I’ve followed those fellows here,” said Dick. “They are inside.”
“What are they doing?”
“That is what I can’t make out.”
“And why did they come here?”
“To get away where there would be little chance that they would be seen together by any one they did not wish to see them, I fancy.”
“But the whole thing is a mystery to me, pard,” confessed Buckhart.
Dick touched his arm, and cautioned him to keep still. Somebody was approaching. The street ran close by the corner of the house, and, from their place of concealment, they saw a person passing.
“Great Scott!” whispered Dick, who seemed to have eyes like an owl. “Did you recognize him, Brad?”