"No, I suppose not," and the colonel smiled. "Well, hurry along Sonny, and here's an extra quarter for you, I'll follow you and you can let me see the answer before you go back to my friend. It would be too bad if he and I went fishing in separate places. I want to be with him."
"Where's your hooks and line?" asked the boy.
"Oh, I have them in my pocket—the hooks and line," and the colonel grimly tapped a pocket wherein something clicked metallicly.
"You can cut a pole in the woods," said the boy. "I've done it lots of times."
"Of course," agreed the colonel, smiling. The boy sped away over the fields. The detective followed more slowly until he reached the collection of houses, and there he strolled along, inspecting the different dwellings as though attracted by the quaint old village street.
It was not long before the boy returned, an envelope held conspicuously in his hand. He smiled as he caught sight of the colonel.
The shadows were lengthening.
"It's too late for fishing now," observed the boy as, unwittingly, he handed over the missive. "That is, unless you're going to set night lines."
"I may have to do that," the detective agreed. "But it won't be quite dark yet for some time."
He glanced quickly at the envelope. It bore no address on its plain, white surface, and under pretence of turning, so as to take advantage of the last golden glow in the west, the colonel quickly read the letter. As he did so a look, almost of fright, came over his face.