“Yes, but you said it first.”
“Well,” said Harry, driven to it, “I happened to be along the road above Ticonderoga that night, and I saw the auto tracks in the moonlight and the ground all rumpled, and, oh, one thing and another, and then the bag on the wall. So I put it in my pocket to return it if I could find the owner.”
“You knew we broke down?”
“I thought so.”
“Oh, isn’t that just wonderful?”
“That’s nothing,” said Gordon. “He does things like that every day—he does them by deduction.”
“Deduction?”
“Yes—putting two and two together and making four.”
“That’s arithmetic,” said she.
“For instance, he thought this bag belonged to an elderly lady,” Gordon continued. “Of course, once in a great while he’s wrong,” he added quickly, rather regretting that he had selected this particular illustration of Harry’s talent for deducing.