"Did you see a man and a boy go in here with a big iron box?"
"'Deed Ah did, sah!" said the woman, vehemently. "De fat boy done slipped on de walk an' squashed down en mah basket ob pralines. I was paid fo' dat, dough, an' dey went on into de house."
"The trail's getting hot," spoke up Dick.
"Who lives in the house?" asked Matt.
"M'sieu Rigolette."
Matt turned and pulled a bell at the door. After a minute or two some one came out on an iron balcony over the door and looked down. It was the creole gentleman, still in his bare feet and wearing his tattered trousers and flannel shirt. There was a wild, apprehensive look in his face, and he would have withdrawn as suddenly as he had appeared if Dick had not caught sight of him and given a yell.
"Ahoy there, you!"
"Vat you vant?" came the query.
"Your name Rigolette?"
"Oui—yes. Why?"