“Aw, rot!” exploded Roy in exasperation. “Simply because people don’t choose to go about telling everybody their business and all their past history, you get the notion that they must have some guilty secret they are trying to cover up. That comes from reading the kind of trash with which you stuff your mind, Piper.”
“In a very few minutes,” retorted Sleuth, “I’ll make it necessary for you to take back some of your slurs, Mr. Hooker. You know what country people are. You know that gossip is one of their chief delights. As a rule, let a strange family move into a town like Oakdale, and within thirty days more than fifty per cent of the inhabitants of that place are conversant with the history of those people as far back as it can be traced. When the Sages came here the usual curious gossips attempted to learn things about them. They failed. To me that’s a guarantee that the Sages, for good and sufficient reasons, desired to keep their family history from being probed. This thought has occurred to me more than once, and many a time I’ve told myself that a little investigation of the before-mentioned Sages might prove interesting to a sensational degree. Recently I decided to investigate.”
“In other words, you decided to pry into affairs which did not concern you in the least. Poor business, Piper. The fellow who persists in poking his nose into a crack is sure to get it pinched some day.”
Not the least ruffled, Sleuth retorted: “The person who puts himself to extreme trouble to hide his past must have a guilty secret. Sometimes there are wolves in sheep’s clothing, and for the public weal they should be exposed. In order to obtain information regarding the Sages, it was necessary to learn where they came from when they moved to this town.”
“And you found out?”
“Having decided on a course of action, I never permit anything to baffle me.”
“How did you do it?”
“Oh, one day I dropped in on Mrs. Sage for a little social call. Fred wasn’t home, so I waited for him; and, while waiting, I made myself comfortable, at the lady’s invitation, in the sitting-room. I knew there must be in that house something which would give me the clue I sought. It was not long before I discovered the very thing, a family photograph album. While seemingly amusing myself by looking at the pictures in that album, I slipped several of them from their places and looked for the imprint of the photographer. There were pictures of Mr. and Mrs. Sage, and also of Fred, taken some years ago. Those pictures, I found, bore the name of a photographer in the town of Rutledge, State of New York. I lost little time in writing a letter to the postmaster of Rutledge, New York, making inquiries concerning the Sages. I asked if they had ever lived in that town. In case they had, I politely requested information concerning the entire family. To insure an answer, I enclosed a stamped and addressed envelope.”
“And did you get an answer?”
“Sure,” exulted Piper. “I received it to-night. I have it in my pocket now. The information it contains is of the most sensational character. It clears up the mystery of the Sages, and also, I firmly believe, fixes the identity of the mysterious man you met beyond Culver’s Bridge.”