"He ain't a man, he's a boy; young Will Barnes," amended the coroner. "Most people think he's just a lazy, no-account young feller, but I've always said he was growin'. Goes fishin' a good deal, of course, but—— There he goes, now!" He ran to the door, through the glass of which he had seen a tall, lanky youth across the way.
"Hi, Will!" he yelled, "come over, the New York man is waiting!"
Young Barnes came slowly across the highway.
"I've got to git some hooks," he said. "If I don't get 'em now the store'll close."
"This is more important than hooks," answered Pike. "Come in here. Mr. Garrison, this is Mr. Barnes. Will, Mr. Garrison, the New York detective."
Quite unimpressed by Garrison's personality or calling, Will advanced and shook his hand.
Garrison looked him over quickly.
"You're the man who saw a stranger going into Hardy's room, at Mrs. Wilson's, the night that Hardy died, I believe?" he said. "How did you happen to be there?"
"He lives right near," volunteered Mr. Pike.
"I was gettin' night-walkers," said Will.