“Aw, can the guyin’!” and with a red, angry face, Fibsy jumped up and fairly ran out of the room and out of the house.
“Now you’ve made him mad,” said Avice, “and we’ll never know what he found in the way of clues.”
“He said, a shoe button, and some mud! We could hardly expect much from those treasures.”
Then Judge Hoyt came. His calls were frequent, and he continually tried to persuade Avice to announce their engagement. But the girl was perverse and said she must first solve the mystery of her uncle’s death. The judge was always willing to listen to her latest theories, but though he never said so, Avice felt pretty certain that he did not suspect the Swede.
She told him of Fibsy’s finds, and he said curiously, “What did he mean by mud?”
“He didn’t say mud,” corrected Avice, “he said dirt I think he meant soil or earth.”
“How would that be a clue? Any one can get some soil from the place, if they don’t take too much. A few square feet might be valuable.”
“Why pay any attention to that rubbishy boy?” exclaimed Pinckney. “Why not get a worth-while detective, and let him detect?”
“Yes, that’s the thing to do,” agreed Hoyt. “Duane stands well in the profession.”
“Alvin Duane! just the man,” and Pinckney looked enthusiastic. “But he’s a bit expensive.”