“He never knew what became of your mother.”
“Like time he didn’t! She wrote to him when she was down and out, asking him to take me. And he never as much as answered her letter. So, do you think I’m going to chase after him now? I guess not! I wouldn’t have come this close to him if it hadn’t been for the hidden treasure.”
Poppy then told how the grandfather had been hit on the head.
“A one-armed burglar,” spoke up the old man, sort of reflective-like. “It ought to be easy to spot him.”
“Have you ever seen a one-armed man hanging around here?”
“No, nor a two-armed man, nuther.”
“And you never suspected that you were being secretly watched?”
“Only what Tommy told me about seein’ somethin’ near the tunnel. But he wasn’t sure whether it was a man or not.”
“I have a hunch,” waggled Poppy, “that the cat killer, as we call him, for want of a better name, has been keeping closer tab on you than either of you suspect. And the object, of course, was to let you lift the treasure and then grab it on you.”
“But who can it be?” puzzled the old man.