"I can testify to his bravery," said the girl. "Paul and I are great friends." A minute later, young Ender entered the presence of the trio, and deposited a black satchel in the middle of the floor. "I have committed a theft," said the boy, with a queer look on his face, "and am here to throw myself on the mercy of the court." "You speak in riddles," said Bernard. "I've been on a bully lay, as the peelers say, and I believe have made a discovery, although it may amount to nothing after all." "Go on." "I've seen the man with the red hair and beard." "When?" "Where?" "Over by the depot. I saw him go into an old out-house with this satchel in his hand." "Indeed!" "Go on." "I was on the watch, and when he came out I saw, not Brother Ruggles, but a lean old man, with white locks and beard, who seemed to walk with great difficulty." "Ah!" "Indeed!" "He hobbled away, and failed to take the satchel with him. At first I could not believe that the sorrel gent and the old chap were the same. I learned this by investigation. When, after waiting a spell, and no sunset-haired gent came forth, I proceeded to investigate, and found this satchel, which, under the law of military necessity, I proceeded to confiscate, that the ends of justice might be furthered. If I have done wrong, I am ready to throw myself on the mercy of the court, and be forgiven." "You have done right," cried Dyke Barrel. "Have you opened the satchel?" "No. It is locked, and I haven't a key that will fit." Harry Bernard produced several keys, none of which fitted the lock to the satchel. "What are we to do?" cried Bernard. "The satchel is securely locked, and its owner has the key." "This is no time for ceremony or undue squeamishness!" uttered Dyke Darrel. "We are on the eve of an important discovery, and I propose to make no delays." Then, drawing a knife from his pocket, the detective bent over the satchel and slit the sides at one stroke. "That will open it if a key won't," he remarked, with grim satisfaction. The contents of the satchel were a revelation. Red wigs and a complete suit of clothes, besides paints and powders. Harry uttered an exclamation. "Just as I suspected," uttered Dyke Darrel. "You made no, mistake when you suspected that old man who just now left this vicinity. Doubtless he forgot his satchel, or else thought it safe until his return. Paul, my boy, you have done a good thing, and shall be promoted. We must now make it a point to intercept old Wiggs." "Doubtless he has gone to the depot." "How far is that from here?" "Two miles." "When does the train pass?" questioned Dyke Darrel. "I cannot say." "Nor I." "Ask the farmer's wife." Paul sped from the room. "The New York express goes in ten minutes," said the boy, on his return. "In ten minutes? Then we have no time to lose," cried Dyke, turning to the door. "Dyke, what would you do?" demanded Nell at this moment. "Capture your enemy and mine---"