"I went to your hotel. The clerk told me you had come to this stream. It's the only good one for trout around here besides the one on my father's farm."
"Has your father a trout stream?" and the eyes of the colonel took on a kindly gleam.
"He has, and it's well stocked. But please, won't you help me? You are the only one who can!"
"I'm not sure of that, my dear young lady. And, really, I hardly understand what it's all about. You say the hotel clerk told you I was here. I can understand that, for I asked him the best way to reach this place. But how did you know I was a detective and stopping at the Adams House?"
"He told me!" She pointed to the lanky youth.
The colonel and Shag turned their eyes on him. Shag gave a start of surprise. The colonel began to leaf over the brain tablets of his memory system. He was beginning to place the lad.
"Mah good land of massy!" ejaculated the negro. "It's de train newsboy whut yo' give a dollar to las' night, Colonel!"
"The one who wanted to sell me a detective story?"
"I'm him, Colonel Brentnall," answered the lad, a smile of triumph lighting up his face. "Your man told me who you was, and I heard you tell the taxi man where to drive you. I didn't think anything more about it until I read about the murder."
"The murder!" exclaimed the colonel. Somehow that seemed to follow him as a Nemesis.