“Perhaps I was looking for you,” was the answer.
Beneath his breath the man muttered a word or two, smothered, but expressive of great annoyance and anger. The dog whined questioningly. Master of the situation, Piper waited, all the chill having gone from his body.
“I suspected you, you young rascal—I suspected you when you came prowling around my cabin,” said the man. “You were rather clever with your excuses and your pretence of great interest in my literary work, but I couldn’t help feeling that you had a hidden design.”
“Your premonition was correct, Mr. Granger,” said Sleuth. “Your glibness, when you visited us at Pleasant Point, in spinning the romantic story of Lovers’ Leap and the fantastic tale of the haunted island aroused my suspicions. You told those yarns altogether too well. That’s a beautiful Santa Claus set of whiskers you’re wearing.”
The man stroked his beard and laughed shortly, in spite of himself.
“Up to date they have served my purpose very well,” he returned; “but henceforth, as your remarkable cleverness has led you to catch on to the little game, I suppose I’ll have little use for them.”
“Your dog,” declared the triumphant boy, “was a dead give-away. You must have kept him tied up the most of the time, but when I saw him and noted his color, on the occasion of my friendly call upon you, I decided instantly that he would appear very well as a spook dog if seen in the darkness or through the twilight of evening. I’ve watched you every day since then, waiting for you to come here. At last my vigilance has been fully rewarded.”
“Well, now,” said Mr. Granger, for the man in white was indeed the somewhat seclusive young author, “you might come down here and give me a hand with the canoe. It’s light, and I can pull it up alone, as I have many times, but I’m not adverse to your assistance.”
“The dog——”
“He won’t touch you. He’s the most harmless creature in the world.”