Mr. Larkin made his presence known, and a dime passed into each grubby palm won their confidence.
They were on the wharf slipping off their clothes when they heard footsteps and had only time to rush to cover in the underbrush when Mr. Chapman Price appeared. He waited round a bit and then Miss Maitland came and they sat on the bench and talked. The boys had not been able to hear what they said, but that it was serious they gathered from Mr. Price's manner and the fact that Miss Maitland had cried for a spell. Mr. Price went away first, and as he was going he said loud, standing in the path, "Take the upper trail and if you meet anybody say you've been at the beach bathing." Then he'd gone and Miss Maitland had waited a while, and then she'd gone too, by the upper trail, the way he'd said.
Mr. Larkin had been very sympathetic and friendly, swore he'd keep his mouth shut, and cautioned the boys to do the same, for he'd heard that Mrs. Janney wouldn't stand for any one bathing in Little Fresh and you couldn't tell but what she might have them arrested.
The next day he had a meeting with Suzanne in a summer-house on the Setons' grounds, the Setons being in California for the season. He gave his report of Miss Maitland's career—entirely worthy and respectable—and then asked the question Molly had asked Mrs. Janney: had Mr. Price ever exhibited any special interest in the secretary? Mrs. Price's surprise and denial were as genuine and emphatic as her mother's had been and Mr. Larkin arrived at the same conclusion as Molly—here started the path that led to the heart of the maze.
He did not say this to Mrs. Price. What he did say was that he would leave Berkeley shortly and when he had anything of importance to tell make an appointment with her by letter. It was not necessary to inform her that his next move would be to Cedar Brook where he had heard that Chapman Price spent a good deal of his time.
Cedar Brook, six miles above Berkeley on the main line, had none of the prestige of its aristocratic neighbor. It was in the process of development, new houses rising round its outskirts, fields being turned into lawns. Mr. Larkin took a room in a clapboarded cottage which stared at other clapboarded cottages through the foliage of locust trees. Announcing his intention of buying a piece of land, he was soon an object of general attention and added to his store of knowledge. He heard a good deal of Chapman Price, who was there off and on with the Hartleys, and of his man Willitts. It was understood that Willitts was staying with Price till he got a job, and, as the Hartley house was small, lodged in the village; in fact, Mr. Larkin learned to his satisfaction, was living in one of the clapboarded cottages close to his own.
Professing a desire to study the environs of Cedar Brook he hired a wheel, and the third afternoon of his stay peddled out into the country. It was while passing the private hedge of a large estate, that he came upon a young man engaged over a disabled bicycle.
The day was warm, the salt air of the Sound shut out by forest and hill, the road bathed in a hot glow of sun. The man had taken off his coat, and, as Mr. Larkin drew near, looked up displaying a smooth-shaven, rosy face, beaded with perspiration.
Mr. Larkin, being by nature and profession curious, drew up and made friendly inquiries. The man answered them, explained the nature of the damage, his speech marked by the crisp, clipped enunciation of the Briton. His costume—negligée shirt, knickerbockers and golf stockings—did not suggest the country house guest, nor was his accent quite that of the English gentleman. The detective, who had some knowledge of these delicate distinctions, laid his bicycle against the bank and proffered his assistance. Together they repaired the stranger's wheel, and, when it was done, rested from their labors in the shade of the hedge, and engaged in conversation. This at first was of the war—the young man explaining that he was English and had volunteered at once, but been rejected on the ground of his eyes—very near-sighted, couldn't read the chart at all—touching with an indicating finger the glasses that spanned his nose. After that he'd come to America; he could make good money then and had people dependent on him. At this stage Mr. Larkin asked his profession and learned that he was a valet, by name James Willitts, just now looking for a place. He had been in the employ of Mr. Chapman Price and was still staying with him until he got a new "situation." Mr. Larkin in return recited his little lay about the plumbing business and the bungalow, and, the introductions accomplished, they passed to more general topics and soon reached the Janney robbery.
It was a propitious meeting for the detective, for Willitts proved himself a free and expansive talker. He launched forth into the subject with an artless zest, not needing any prompting from his attentive listener. Mr. Larkin was grateful for it all, but especially so for an account of the movements of Mr. Price the day before the robbery. He had sent his valet to Cedar Brook on the morning train, he to follow later in the afternoon. Willitts, after the unpacking and settling was done, had biked over to Grasslands to see "the help," and then made the engagement to meet them that night at the movies. Of course he had to go back, as part of his work was to lay out Mr. Price's dinner clothes and help him dress, and it was most unfortunate, because, when he went up to Mr. Price's room, Mr. Price said he wouldn't change, would keep on the clothes he had and go motoring.