“Nobody was here last fall,” Jim declared positively. “What sort of chap is he, about your size?”
“No, very slender fellow, dark skin and eyes, rather good looking.” Jim looked at Bob.
“Maybe it’s those ginks,” he said scornfully.
“Sounds like them,” Bob admitted.
“Where they stopping?” Burnam asked, eagerly.
“They ain’t,” Jim grinned, then added, “They tried this neighborhood for a week, then went on into Canada. The station agent said their luggage was shipped to Toronto.”
“You don’t say.” The big man seemed disappointed and the little one smiled behind his napkin.
“Chap like that wouldn’t stay in so small a place,” he remarked.
“No, I suppose not. Well, can I pay you—”
“Pay my brother,” Jim answered, and strolled out of the house. In the soft earth he had no difficulty in trailing Corso’s foot prints and a few minutes later saw the man and the boy crouched in the garden where they were completely hidden from the road. “Hello,” he said softly. “I told those fellows that you two went to Toronto. Know where that is?”