“Zat so, young man? Well, my advice to you is to keep a quiet tongue or things won’t be so quiet for you.”
This exchange of remarks brought Mrs. Parsons around from her hysterical fright to a feeling of resentment.
“Pray, let us not have any trouble of the kind. We have had enough trouble to worry us. Let us proceed to learn whether we might not find a way to gain proof against the men who have done this.”
“I quite agree with you, Mrs. Parsons. If there are such things as clues which will help us fasten this on the men who did it, let’s try to find the clues.” Frank was keeping his cool demeanor.
“I’ll see to the clues.” The policeman still held to his manner, which was bellicose, to say the least. “We do not need your help, young man, and you may leave.”
“This is my house, sir!” The widow spoke angrily. “Mr. Allen will stay here until he pleases to leave.”
“No, Mrs. Parsons, I think it wise that I leave. I thank you ever so much for what you have said, but since it might merely slow things down if I stayed, I will be getting back home, for it is already late.”
With this Frank and Lanky bowed themselves out of the house and were gone down the river bank.
Walking at a medium pace across the great spread of carpeted grass, the two boys said nothing to each other, though both were thinking deeply.
The vines and shrubs cracked and swished as they pushed their way through these, and both came out at the river bank at practically the same time—and with the same thought.