“He’s just smart enough for that,” and Avice smiled a little.
“Yes, he is. I asked him to come here today, and I thought you and I would both talk to him, and see if we can learn anything of his find. If not, I admit I am at the end of my rope, and if you choose, perhaps, you’d better get a real detective on the case.”
“I spoke to Judge Hoyt about that, and he agreed. But Mr. Landon doesn’t want a detective. Ah, here’s Fibsy, now. Come in, child.”
The boy had appeared at the door with a beaming face, but at Avice’s calling him “child,” his countenance fell.
“I ain’t no child,” he said, indignantly; “and say, Miss Avice, I found some clues!”
“Well, what are they?”
“A shoe button, and a hunk o’ dirt.”
“Interesting!” commented Pinckney. “Just what do you deduce from them?”
Then Fibsy rose up in his wrath. “I ain’t a-goin’ to be talked to like that! I won’t work on this case no more!”
“Sorry,” said Pinckney, grinning at him. “Then I suppose we’ll have to call in somebody else. Of course, he won’t do as well as you, but if you’ve decided to throw the case over, why——”