“Well, it’s a strange sort of thing, and there may be nothing in it,” went on the professor. “But I was just down at the hotel, having a bit of lunch, and at the table next to mine were two men. They called each other Burke and Jake, and in the course of their talk they mentioned Deacon Blackford’s name several times.”
“They did?”
“Yes, and not only that, but they knew about the theft of the money from him and Mrs. Blackford.”
“Well, I suppose the deacon has pretty well advertised the loss,” said Joe, “so there isn’t anything so strange in that.”
“No, perhaps not,” admitted the professor, slowly. “But here is the strange part of it, Joe.
“Those two men—I didn’t catch their last names—not only seemed to know about the loss, but they laughed over it as though it were a good joke. In fact, I should say, just from a casual observation and from what I heard, that they knew more about the theft than even the deacon himself.”
“You think they do?”
“That’s my impression.”
“Maybe they were detectives,” Joe suggested. “The deacon would call in the police, and they might be on my trail. I wonder if I had better get out while I have the chance?”
“I wouldn’t do that,” said the professor. “These men weren’t detectives, I’m sure of that. But they certainly laughed about the deacon’s loss in a knowing way.”