Leaning out he saw that there was a gate in the fence that led to the cross street, for Mr. Sanborn’s house was on the corner.
He heard a voice, and, looking up, saw a man at the open window of a house fronting on the cross street, but which looked out upon the yard in the rear of Mr. Sanborn’s house.
The person opposite was a very young man, not more than a boy. He asked if Patsy were looking for anybody.
“Yes,” replied Patsy, “I am. Have you seen him?”
“I saw a man drop out of that window,” said the young lad, “and go out of the gate into the street.”
“What sort of a looking man was he?” asked Patsy.
“He wasn’t a very big man,” replied the lad, “but he had black whiskers all around his face and long black hair.”
“That’s my man,” replied Patsy. “Was anybody with him?”
“I didn’t see anybody,” replied the lad; “he went into the street through that door in the fence. He had no hat on. Did he steal anything?”
“Great Scot, no!” said Patsy. “His skipping was only a joke.”