Uriah did not reply to this. His sharp eyes had caught sight of a leather bag, half-concealed under a clump of raspberry bushes. He ran forward and dragged the bag out.
"Look here!" he cried. "What did I tell you?"
"A leather valise, true enough!" exclaimed the constable. "But it may be one belonging to the family."
"Would they leave a good valise out under them bushes?" growled Uriah. "Not much!"
"I shouldn't think they would."
"And, besides, this looks like the one Benjamin Hooker kept in the post office for his trips to the Chambersburgh Bank."
The constable began to examine the bag. Soon he ran across a tag inside, upon which was printed in ink:
Property of Benjamin Hooker,
Postmaster, Westville.
"That settles it," he said, in a harder tone than he had before employed.
"I guess it looks black enough against Ralph Nelson now," said Uriah.