“No, not that I observed.”
“Well, there surely was something the matter with him to-day. Something had happened to upset him completely.”
“What do you think it was?”
“It was something tremendous, or it never would have led him to bungle and blunder the way he did in that game. It was such a tremendous thing that he could not get it out of his mind so that he might concentrate on the game. Whenever he dismissed thoughts of it, he played in something like his usual form for a few minutes, but it kept coming back at him and putting him on the blink. He denied that he was sick. He denied that anything had happened to upset him. All this is precisely what would have happened had he made the amazing discovery to-day that his brother Clarence was alive.”
“Gee whiz!” breathed Hooker. “I’ll own up that you’ve got me staggered. If you’re right, Piper, you certainly have got a head on your shoulders.”
The darkness masked the smile of satisfaction that Sleuth could not repress.
“You can’t dodge the force of my deductions,” he declared. “Let me give you a further illustration of my reasoning ability. As an escaped convict, is it likely that Clarence Sage would lead an honest life? I admit that he might, but the germ of dishonesty must have been virulent in his blood, or he, the apparently promising son of highly respectable parents, would never have committed his first crime. Once a man has taken a crooked step, he’s almost sure to take others. Supposed to be dead, Sage surely traveled under a fictitious name. A certain crook, called James Wilson and known among his pals as Gentleman Jim, bears a strong resemblance to the young bank-looter who was sent to Sing Sing. This crook was arrested in the town of Harpersville a short time ago, but made his escape from the jail, nearly killing the guard as he did so. A big reward has been offered for Wilson’s capture. The last peg in my argument is that this Gentleman Jim is none other than Clarence Sage himself.”
“If that should prove to be right,” said Hooker, “I’ll admit that you’ve got all the detectives of real life or fiction beaten to a froth.”
CHAPTER XIX.
THE NIGHT ALARM.
On Sunday night, or, rather, Monday morning, within a few minutes of the hour of three (Captain Aaron Quinn afterward swore it was at six bells precisely) occurred the explosion which, although muffled and faintly heard by two persons only, was of sufficient importance to shake Oakdale village to its very foundations. The only person actually to hear the explosion, besides the old sailor, who could not sleep well on account of his rheumatism, was Jonas Sylvester, the fat and pompous village night-watch. With the establishment of the bank the town authorities had decided that a night guard must be employed to patrol the streets, and Sylvester, whose qualifications may be summed up briefly by the statement that he weighed nearly three hundred pounds and had no regular employment, was chosen for the job.