"You said boys," said Mr. Brown slowly. "What sort of boys? Could you describe them?"
"One was freckled," said the young man. "He called the other one Ginger."
Mr. Brown swallowed.
"I think," he said, "that I can help you—if you'll come home with me."
"Have you got a clue?" said the young man excitedly.
"I think," said Mr. Brown, "that I have."
******
The young man, dropping garden soil with every movement upon Mrs. Brown's drawing-room carpet, clasped his tin box to his breast—William, frowning and injured, stood before an accusing family circle and defended himself.
WILLIAM DEFENDED HIMSELF. "WELL, HOW WAS I
TO KNOW? I FOUND HIM DIGGIN' GRAVES FOR THE
FOLKS HE'D MURDERED."