One glance was all that Average Jones bestowed upon a spot which, for a few days, had been of national interest. His concern was inside the room. A stand against the wall was littered with bits of shining mechanism. An unjointed fishing-rod lay on the bed. Near at hand were a small screw-driver and a knife with a broken blade. “Were things in this condition when you came to call Bailey in the morning and found him gone?” asked Average Jones. “Nothing has been touched,” said the clergyman in a low voice. Average Jones straightened up and stretched himself languidly. His voice when he spoke again took on the slow drawl of boredom. One might have thought that he had lost all interest in the case but for the thoughtful pucker of the broad forehead which belied his halting accents. “Then—er—when Bailey left here he hadn’t any idea of—er—running away.” “I don’t follow you, Mr. Jones.” “Psychology,” said Average Jones. “Elementary psychology. Here’s your son’s new reel. A normal boy doesn’t abandon a brand-new fad when he runs away. It isn’t in boy nature. No, he was taking this reel apart to study it when some unexpected occurrence checked him and drew him outside.” “The meteor.” “I made some inquiries in the village on my way, up. None of the hundreds of people who turned out for the fire, remembers seeing Bailey about.” “That is true.” “The meteor fell at ten-fifteen. Bailey went upstairs before nine. Allow half an hour for taking apart the reel. I don’t believe he’d have been longer at it. So, it’s probable that he was out of the house before the meteor fell.” “I should have heard him go out of the front door.” “That is, perhaps, why he went out of the window,” observed Average Jones, indicating certain marks on the sill. Swinging his feet over, he stepped upon the roof of the porch, and peered at the ground below. “And down the lightning rod,” he added. For a moment he stood meditating. “The ground is now frozen hard,” he said presently. “Bailey’s footprints where he landed are deeply marked. Therefore the soil must have been pretty soft at the time.” “Very,” agreed the clergyman. “There had been a three-day downpour, up to the evening of Bailey’s disappearance. About nine o’clock the wind shift to the northeast, and everything froze hard. There has been no thaw since.” “You seem very clear on these points, Mr. Prentice.” “I noted them specially, having in mind to write a paper on the meteorite for the _Congregationalist_.” “Ah! Perhaps you could tell me, then, how soon after the meteor’s fall, the barn yonder was discovered to be afire?” “Almost instantly. It was in full blaze within very short time after.” “How short? Five minutes or so?” “Not so much. Certainly not more than two.” “H’m! Peculiar! Ra-a-a-ather peculiar.” drawled Average Jones. “Particularly in view of the weather.” “In what respect?” “In respect to a barn, water-soaked by a three-day rain bursting into flame like tinder.”