The breakfast-party laughed, the Professor wore such a look of injured dignity.
“No, sir, not to yours,” Ben said. “Yours are fat as a drum compared to those I have in mind.”
“I remember Ben mumbled something about this last night,” mused Tom. “But I was too sleepy to listen. He said something about Sally Hooper, too; something about her giving him an idea.”
Ben nodded. “So she did.”
“Didn’t I always claim that our Benjie was a real detective?” said David. “Clean up first; and then for the yarn.”
Breakfast things were put away in their box, and then the three turned to Ben. “Where’s your mahogany man?” they demanded in one voice.
“There’s no hurry,” was the tantalizing answer. “Perhaps I’d better go fishing first.”
Tom laid his hand on the other boy’s shoulder and twisted him around. “Lead us to him,” he commanded.
Ben shrugged. “Oh, very well. You’re more interested than you were last night. Come along, but don’t make any noise.”
He led them to Cotterell Hall. Tuckerman had locked the front door after the girls had left on the night before, and now he opened it with the key he kept in his trouser pocket.