Again I started, confronted by a strange new thought.
'Squire Brookhouse had telegraphed to an agent to employ for him two detectives. My Chief had been unable to discover what officers had been employed. Carnes and myself, although we had kept a faithful lookout, had been able to discover no traces of a detective in Trafton. Indeed, except for ourselves and the two crooks, there were no strangers in the village, nor had there been since the robbery.
If Blake and Dimber were playing at detectives, why was it? Had the agent employed by 'Squire Brookhouse played him a trick, or had he been himself duped?
'Squire Brookhouse had telegraphed to his lawyer, it was said. A lawyer could have no motive for duping a wealthy client, nor would he be likely to be imposed upon or approached by such men as Blake and Dimber.
Had 'Squire Brookhouse procured the services of these men? And if so, why?
Carnes was endeavoring to sustain his rôle by taking a much needed nap upon his cot, but I now roused him with eager haste, and regaled his sleepy ears with the story I had just listened to below stairs.
At first he seemed only to see the absurdity of the idea, and he buried his face in the pillow, to stifle the merriment which rose to his lips at the thought of the protection such detectives would be likely to afford the innocent Traftonites.
Then he became wide awake and sufficiently serious, and we hastily discussed the possibilities of the case.