“You see, Terence, all clues have been traced to their last possible degree of usefulness in our investigations.”
“Yes, sir, of course, sir. Say, Judge Hoyt, I’m kinder sorry you wasn’t in town that day. If you had a been, you might a kep’ Mr. Trowbridge from goin’ to the woods at all.”
“Maybe so, Terence. We can’t know about those things. Some people hold there’s no such thing as chance; if so, it was ordained that I should be out of town.”
“Yes, sir. Funny, ain’t it? An’ sorter pathetic that Mr. Trowbridge should have your telegram, what you sent from Philly in his pocket.”
“Well, that was only natural, as he must have received it shortly before he went away from his office.”
“An’ he thought a heap of you, sir. Why, jest takin’ that telegram shows that. He wouldn’t a taken a plain business telegram.”
“Probably not. Yes, if I had been here I should doubtless have been at his office most of the day. But even then, if he had expressed a desire to go to the woods, to look for his specimens, I should not have detained him. By the way, Terence, here’s a rather interesting photograph. That day, in Philadelphia, there was a camera man in the station, taking picture postcards of the place. And, purposely, I got in his focus. See the result.”
From his pocket-book, Judge Hoyt took a picture postcard, and handed it to the boy. The great station showed up well, and in the foreground was easily distinguishable the figure of Judge Hoyt, standing in his characteristic attitude, with both hands behind him.
“Say, Judge, that’s fine! My, I’d know you in a minute. Kin I keep this?”
“Wish I could give it to you, but it’s the only copy I have left. I’ll send for some more, if you really care to have one.”