"Well, I had something to tell you, private-like, about that murder."
"Indeed! Well, you can speak right out before this gentleman. He is helping me to inquire into it. But why, if you have anything to tell, did you not come up to the inquest?"
"I didn't care to speak before so many folks; and I thought it would be better to tell you quietly."
"And what is it you have to tell me?"
"I expect, Squire, I know who killed Jake Van Deust."
"The deuce you do!" exclaimed the detective, bouncing in his seat.
"Yes, sir; I was told what the Squire said a week ago to-day about suspicious strangers in the neighborhood, and I thought to myself, I know of one, and I ought to tell him."
"Well?"
"Well, it's a young man who used to live in this neighborhood, but who disappeared—ran away, I guess, for some reason best known to himself—about three years ago or a little better. He's been back lately, hiding around in the woods and meeting a foolish girl—"
"Aha!" interrupted the detective, with a chuckle, and rubbing his hands; "if there's a girl in the case, we'll have him, sure."