But the day at home was a restless one for both boys. John tinkered in his little workshop down cellar when not eating, and Stan haunted the windows, and read from an adventure magazine between times. His vigilance at the windows was rewarded late that afternoon when he spotted a stranger hovering about the next corner. The man glanced once in a while at the Sandborn home.
The G-man himself had left in the early morning to go on the case, wearing ordinary clothes and carrying his service gun in an armpit holster.
He went by street car to the depot and took a train for Main Haven, arriving there around ten o’clock. Casually, as if merely shopping, he drifted into John’s place. The place was empty of customers at that moment, but he did not relax his attitude as John, smiling, came forward.
“And what can I get you, sir?” asked John, his eyes meeting his “customer’s” with an unspoken question there.
“Nice lettuce you have,” the G-man said, picking up a head, and then continuing in an almost inaudible voice, while examining the vegetable, “New case. Have you received your instructions?”
“Yes, indeed!” rejoined John, winking. “And very fine it is!”
“Good. I’ll have—say, have you any carrots?” Mr. Sandborn remarked, and then added, “Seen anything of Nevens, Nevada, or whatever the name is?”
“No, not yet,” said the grocer, quietly. “But his cook comes in to buy the supplies.”
“Who is he?”
“Just what his name is. Nevens took him on four years ago. I never have seen Nevens himself, but townspeople have, and it sounds a little like Nevada.”