“Might be it.” He opened it and read, and then folded the papers away in his coat pocket again. “Guess I’ll put these in the safe deposit box in the bank this morning. Come, Bob, we’ve got to get a hustle on. You don’t want to miss that train, and we’ve several things to do before train time. We’ll just get down and eat a bite and then we can take it easy. What have you left do yet? Anything but gather up your baggage?”

“Oh, just one or two little things,” said Bob. “It won’t take me long.”

Alan’s mother had ordered breakfast served at once when they came down, honey dew melon, chops, fried potatoes, waffles, and amber coffee. She came smiling in as the boys sat down.

“Why, is this a banquet, Mrs. MacFarland?” said Bob, rising and pulling back her chair. “You oughtn’t to have done it. All this! And I’m sure you don’t have breakfast at this hour every morning.”

“You’re going on a journey,” said the smiling mother. “You’ll need a good breakfast. And besides, we’re so happy this morning, we want to celebrate. Alan, your father is really better, the doctor says. It will be a long time before he pulls back to things, but he has passed the worst, he hopes.”

It was a happy meal, and Bob’s heart warmed with the feeling that he belonged and might help rejoice in the happiness and relief of these new friends. All too quickly, the minutes passed, and the boys started out together. But just as they went out the door, the telephone rang, and Alan was called to answer.

“I’ll start on,” called Bob. “Meet you at the post office. How’s that? Got to leave my address or my brother-in-law will examine any letters that might come.”

But Bob did not go at once to the post office. Instead, he sprinted back down the back street and entered the alley, the scene of the fracas the night before. He walked over the ground pretty thoroughly, examining everything, and then followed the path down among the weeds, into the fields where the fugitive disappeared. Yes, there were hasty tracks in the grass; tall weeds lying flat as if a heavy, hasty foot had crushed them, but they ended in a group of elderberry bushes down near the railroad, no sign of any footsteps beyond the bushes. He stood looking at the vague path thoughtfully a moment and then retraced his steps. He did not notice a frail young girl, with big troubled eyes, watching him from behind the back fence on the other side of the alley, until he was opposite her. And then he saw that it was Lancey Kennedy, the niece of Mrs. Corwin, who kept the millinery store on the other side of the alley and lived in a small apartment over the store. Bob didn’t know Lancey very well. She was shy and retiring, and had been in town only about a year. She had come to Rockland with her aunt after the death of her parents. But she had been in his high school class, and of course, he recognized her.