"Talk about a mystery—this beats everything," thought Bob, with a tinge of excitement.
He nimbly jumped over a fence, back of which were numerous shrubs and trees, and thus being better able to protect himself from observation, increased his speed until he had gained a considerable distance on the unsuspecting Nat.
On looking back, he saw that Sam had followed his example.
"Ah! That's where he is going, eh? Have to be a little careful now. It wouldn't do to be caught napping, Bobby."
On the opposite side of the street, which bore the name of Chelten Road, and just beyond the end of the field, stood a plain, unattractive building, two stories high, with green shutters. In front was a garden enclosed by wooden palings, while at the edge of the pavement stood a huge sycamore, the branches overtopping the house.
Nat pushed open the swinging gate, mounted the steps, and Bob could hear the knocker loudly sounded.
He threw himself down in the midst of some tall grass, and peered cautiously over the lower rail of the fence.
"Perhaps we may learn—"
An involuntary exclamation suddenly escaped his lips. He had made a startling discovery.
The man who opened the door and shook hands with Nat was none other than Mr. Parsons Wingate himself.