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"Neither have I," said the book-agent; "and if I had, I wouldn't give it room. If I knew he was in New Jersey, still I'd think he was in Vermilionville, and go there looking for him. And wherefore? For occult reasons." The two men looked at each other smilingly in the eye, and the boat glided on. The wind favored them.
Almost immediately the car started up again, with a loud shifting of gears, and a moment later the door opened to admit, not a fresh arrival, but the little book-agent. "Party trying to make Hornville to-night," he announced casually. "Well, good night. See you in the morning." Barnes was not in a position to doubt the fellow's word, for the car unmistakably had gone on toward Hornville.
His purse and private papers rarely were off his person. If the little book-agent spent three-quarters of an hour in the room he managed most effectually to cover up all traces of his visit. Barnes did not go to sleep until long after midnight.
His theories, deductions and suggestions as to the designs and identity of Roon and Paul; the stated results of personal and no doubt ludicrous experiments; sly and confidential jabs at the incompetent investigators, uttered behind the hand to Putnam Jones and, if possible, to the book-agent; a quixotic philanthropy in connection with the fortunes of Rushcroft and his players; all these would have to be put forward in the scheme to dispel suspicion at Green Fancy.
"He's cleared out, the book-agent has, got all the money he could of folks without giving 'em any books; and folks say he got some of you. He's been in jail for playing the same trick before; and folks think he'll be caught this time." "Oh, it's a mistake! He'll come back," said Miranda dejectedly, after a moment's thought.
Why, I had a cousin once that was engaged to a book-agent " "Maybe we'd better put away the work for to-night, Miss Mellins," Ann Eliza interposed. "I guess what Evelina wants is a good night's rest." "That's so," assented the dress-maker. "Have you got the back breadths run together, Miss Bunner? Here's the sleeves. I'll pin 'em together."
The poise of his sleek head, however, suggested a listening attitude. Putnam Jones, not four feet away, was speaking into the telephone receiver. As the receiver was restored to its hook, Barnes turned again. Jones and the book-agent were examining the register, their heads almost meeting from opposite sides of the desk.
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