They left the sheds, and Piper set forth along High Street toward Willow, on which Hooker lived. He had not reached Willow when he met Jack Nelson.
“What are you doing, Sleuth?” asked Jack “You were striding off like a man with a mission. Is the great detective on the trail this——”
“Now that will be enough, Nelson, old man—that will be enough,” interrupted Piper. “I’ve just given certain parties notice that this detective gag is played out and I’m done with it. Also, my friends aren’t to call me Sleuth any more if they wish to remain friends. Grin—grin if you want to. I mean it. I’ll prob’ly be carrying around black eyes and body contusions for a while, but as soon as it becomes generally known in this town that I don’t want to be called Sleuth and I won’t stand any more for the detective joke, I’m going to begin punching anybody who disregards the warning.”
“Well, I’ll be blowed!” breathed Nelson. “I thought you were proud of it. Only last night you offered to do a little piece of detective work for me. What did you find out?”
“Nothing,” was the instant answer—“nothing that concerns you in any way.”
“And you’re disgusted over your failure, eh? I didn’t suppose you’d get down-hearted so easy. No great detective ever——” But the look on Billy’s face caused Jack to stop short. “Oh, say!” he exclaimed; “have you heard about Hooker? I was just told that he——”
“I’ve heard about it,” said Piper, preparing to pass on. “I’m going to see him now, if they’ll let me. Dr. Grindle told Springer and me all about it.”
“It’s queer,” said Nelson. “Aren’t you quitting your professional career at a moment when there’s a case that would really justify your investigation? Perhaps that’s why you’re going to see him. Perhaps you mean to——”
“No, that’s not the reason. Guess I’ll skip along.”
“If you find out anything, let a fellow know,” Nelson called after him.