"Just looking around, that's all."
"You haven't any right in this yard."
"I think I have."
"Who are you?"
"My name is Watkins—Jack Watkins," and then some words followed which
Adam Adams did not catch.
"Oh, then I suppose that makes a difference," came from the policeman in a more humble tone. "Do you want to come in the house and see Miss Langmore?"
"No, I don't want to see the girl. But I'll come into the house," answered the strange man, and walked up the piazza steps and into the mansion, with the policeman by his side.
As soon as the fellow was ought of sight, Adam Adams drew closer and looked under the bushes where the other had been searching.
At first he saw nothing, but then his keen eye detected a bit of paper, caught at the foot of some shrubbery.
"More documentary evidence, perhaps," he murmured, as he shoved the paper into his pocket. "I wonder if this connects with the piece I found under the safe?"