“That!”
The man had stepped forward and was pointing at the little black stick in Frank’s hand. Starbright uttered a smothered exclamation.
“I’m in luck to find it,” said the stranger, passing the boy and entering the room. “I congratulate myself.”
“This?” muttered Frank—“this yours?”
“It is. I presume you must have picked it up on the sidewalk near where the encounter with those mashers took place?”
“Yes.”
“I thought I lost it there.”
“You dropped it?”
“I did. But I did not discover the loss till some time later. When I did so, I turned about and ran back to that corner. You had gone.”
“Then what?”