"I am looking," returned the other.
"He calls it the receiver for his new butterflies, but looks more like a kodak to me," Andy went on. "But d'ye know what I thought, Frank?"
"Tell me," whispered the other, still watching the professor, who had come to a stop at some little distance away, and seemed to be busily engaged looking back of him, as though laying out plans for an afternoon campaign among the bright winged butterflies.
"Why, how easy for him to tear out the inside works of a camera box like that, and make use of it for a better purpose, see?" Andy went on to say.
"Oh! now you've got a bright thought for a fact," Frank sent back, careful not to raise his voice above that cautious pitch.
"Well, it could be done; and I guess that little black box'd hold about all the money and securities that the bank lost. They say the thieves only picked out the papers they could dispose of, and left all the rest, which would indicate that the second yegg must have been in the banking line, some time or other, and knew what was what."
"H'sh! he's coming on again! Lie low, now; Andy!"
Accordingly both of them remained perfectly motionless as the professor advanced toward the house. Had he shown any disposition to head toward that particular corner Frank was ready to assume an attitude of indifference and appear to be engaged in some boyish game with his jack knife, tossing it up in the air, and causing the point of the long blade to stick upright in the ground.
But the small man with the brown glasses and the butterfly net made straight for the front porch of the house, and passed in at the door, just as though he felt perfectly at home there.
"Well, what next?" remarked Andy.