“I don’t know how I can—” and Avice looked awed at her own thoughts. “But never mind that now. You have promised—oh, Leslie,—do you think it was that little Fibsy boy’s getting that information about the Scaphinotus and the trap-bottle from Professor Meredith, that made them arrest Kane?”
“It helped mightily, Avice. That boy came to see me, and he told me of some clues he had picked up in the woods. But they sounded pretty rubbishy, I thought, and I paid no attention to them. I did offer, though, to get him a position, and I found one for him with a man I know in Philadelphia. It’s a good place, and he ought to do well there.”
“I think you were awfully good to him,” Avice said, with glowing eyes. “I have a sort of liking for the boy, and Uncle was really fond of him.”
“I gave him a talking to about telling stories. But he didn’t seem much impressed. I fear he is incorrigible.”
“Leslie,” and Avice looked him straight in the eyes; “tell me the truth yourself! Why did you do that for Fibsy? You had some reason of your own!”
Hoyt started; “Why Avice, you’re clairvoyant! Well, since you ask, I will tell you. The boy is clever in a detective way. And he might stumble on some clue that would—that would—”
“Oh, I know! That would implicate Kane!”
“Yes; and so you see, dear, it is better to get him out of the way before he makes any trouble for us.”
“Were his clues, as he calls them, of any importance?”
“Probably not; but the boy is unusually, almost abnormally shrewd, and we can’t afford to take chances. I didn’t care to look at his buttons and foot prints, for I thought it better to remain in ignorance of their significance, if they have any.”