“Perhaps I have,” replied Dick, as he climbed up to his perch and started the team. “But I guess I’ll surprise you when I tell you what I’ve seen and heard.”
“Well, I’m ready to hear the story,” said Joe, with mingled impatience and curiosity.
“Of course you’ve heard of William Fairclough, who keeps a stock farm at Walkhill,” began Dick.
“Sure I have.”
“And you’ve also heard he has a brother named Adam, who lives on the outskirts of Jayville, which is six miles from here.”
“Yes, the folks in Walkhill call him Miser Fairclough.”
“You’ve got it right. He occupies an old mansion, built some time before the Revolutionary War. He bought the place for a song, I heard, about forty years ago. Well, there’s a scheme on foot to rob old Fairclough to-night, and it’s up to us to head it off.”
“Rob the miser!” exclaimed Joe, in astonishment.
“Exactly. He has been decoyed away to Walkhill by a bogus letter, which informed him that his brother William is dead.”
“Gee! You don’t mean it!”