"I know Col. Lyon very well," proceeded the clerk. "He comes in here very often." "Where is his office?" inquired Dave. "I don't think he has any regular office," responded the clerk. "Two or three times a week he calls for mail at the Central Amusement Exchange. He travels a good deal--has side attractions with most of the big shows." "But he lives in Kewaukee?" "Not exactly. He has a very fine place called Fernwood, out on the North Boulevard." Dave thought things over for a minute or two. Then he asked: "How can I reach Fernwood?" "You don't mean before daylight?" "Why, yes," responded Dave, "the sooner the better." "I think any of the taxi men out at the curb know the location," said the clerk. "Thank you," replied Dave, "and for all your great kindness about that letter." He and Hiram went out to the street. There were three or four taxicabs lined up at the curb, their drivers napping in the seats. Dave approached one of them. "Do you know where Fernwood is?" he inquired of the chauffeur. "You mean Col. Lyon's place?" "Yes." "Was there only last night. I took the Colonel home." "Then he's there," spoke Dave to Hiram. "All right, take us to Fernwood." "You won't find anybody stirring at this hour of the morning," suggested the chauffeur. "Then we'll Wait till the Colonel gets up," said Dave. In less than half an hour the auto came to a halt before one of a score or more of fine houses lining the most exclusive section of the country boulevard. Dave got out of the machine and Hiram followed him. They passed through the gates of a large garden. In its center was a mansion with wide porches. No light showed anywhere about the place. "You're not going to wake anybody up at this outlandish hour?" asked Hiram. "Well, perhaps not," answered Dave. "Why didn't you wait and see this Col. Lyon in the city at his office?" "Because there is no certainty that he will be at his office today. Then, too, that Star fellow may be on hand there to grab the contract. I want to head him off." By this time they had reached the steps of the front porch. "See here, Hiram," observed Dave, lowering his voice, "we'll sit down here for a spell. It's about five o'clock, and by six someone will be stirring about." "Say," said Hiram, staring across the shadowed porch, "the front door there is open." "Why, so it is," replied Dave, peering towards it. "That's strange, isn't it?" "Oh, no--neglected, or left open for ventilation." Both boys relapsed into silence. Hiram rested his face on his hands and his knees, inclined to doze. Dave was framing up in his mind how he would approach Col. Lyon. He was deeply immersed in thought, when a sound behind him caused him to start and look behind him. Somebody with a great bundle done up in a sheet had just passed through the open doorway out upon the porch. The bundle was so big that its bearer had both hands clasped about it, and its top came above his eyes.