"He ain't rich," cackled Ezra Crouch. "It's his uncle—that crazy inventor. He's got all the money. Not this boy."
"What's the difference?"
"A good deal, I cal'late," declared the confident Ezra. "Mebbe he had need of a lot of money that his uncle wouldn't give him. You know how them college boys air. Purt' tough, if ye ask me."
"But, my goodness!" gasped Compton, rather balked by the other's confidence, "nobody ever heard of anything like this against the Endicotts of Amperly—nossir!"
"There's most always a black sheep in every flock," replied Ezra, pursing his shaven lips. "At any rate, that there penknife Tobias found is his'n, and they tell me the detective Arad Thompson sent for is huntin' Ralph Endicott high and low."
This last was a fact. The detective had stronger reason than the finding of the penknife for making inquiries about Ralph. But the public did not know about the address book—not as yet.
It seemed peculiar that after all the friends Ralph was supposed to have made in Clinkerport, so few of them were in the front rank, so to speak, at this juncture. Zeke Bassett returned to the Twin Rocks Light that evening quite disturbed over this surprising fact.
"Does 'pear," he said to Tobias, when he entered the kitchen after putting away the car, "that Clinkerport folks is about as faithful to their friends as rock adders! Talk about warmin' a viper in your bosom, Tobias. Ralph Endicott has warmed a whole seine full o' vipers, seems to me. I never would have believed a nice feller like him could have made so many friends that turned out to be enemies when he got into trouble."
"Oh, sugar!" murmured the lightkeeper. "I give it as my opinion that Clinkerport folks is purt' average human—that's all."
But his face was grim enough as he listened to Zeke's further narration. It seemed the local police were working hand in hand with the detective, and their main effort seemed to be along the line of hunting Ralph and trailing his movements during the few days subsequent to the burglary.