“Only three of the family are known at the present time to the people of Oakdale,” Piper said hastily. “Have you never thought that there might be at least one other member of this family?”
“Can’t say such a thought ever occurred to me.”
“Listen,” urged Sleuth, “and keep your temper under check until I’m through. The information I’ve obtained does not reflect upon Andrew Sage, his wife or his son Fred.”
“Well,” breathed Roy in relief, “there’s considerable satisfaction to be derived from that statement.”
“The postmaster of Rutledge states that Mr. and Mrs. Sage and their younger son, Fred, are most estimable people.”
“Whew!” whistled Hooker. “Their younger son, eh? Oh, do you mean that there’s another—another son we don’t know anything about?”
“There’s another son, of whom we’ve known nothing whatever up to the present date. I know something about him now, and he’s the black sheep. It was the criminal act of this elder son, Clarence Sage, that doubtless added many gray hairs to his mother’s head and led the family, weighted by the shame of it, to leave Rutledge and seek another home, where no one would know of their disgrace. Now if you don’t care to hear any more about the matter,” said Sleuth craftily, “I’ll close up.”
Roy’s aversion to hearing the information Piper had secured was completely swept away.
“Oh, go on,” he invited, once more leaning against the bridge rail. “What did this Clarence Sage do?”
“Robbed a bank.”