"I have thought of the same thing myself, mother," he replied. "That fellow is of Eastern origin, and he is well brought up, in spite of his efforts to conceal it. And you can't get a word out of him about his past. I've tried a dozen times. I'm positive that he puts on ignorance a good many times, just as a blind. There's a good deal of that here--men who have forgotten all about the East, you understand, and who have new names, and who don't write home by every mail. Now, weren't there other Mansfield boys besides Chester? His mother was a second wife, wasn't she, and there was another family who lived with their grandmother?" "Why, certainly there was!" I exclaimed, catching at the idea. "Three boys, and two of them went out to Denver, or somewhere in that region. Now I have it--that's just who he is. I wonder what crime he has committed--robbery, or perhaps murder--who knows?" "Oh, no! Take care, not quite so fast, mother. But I have a little clue that nobody else has had the interest to notice. It is more than mere coincidence. Of course Doctor Mansfield's sons would be brought up in the deepest piety, and when this fellow gets drunk--you'll hear him some night--he's terribly pious; prays and sings half the night to himself--old church hymns that were never heard in this place. And the thing that I notice is this: he prays like one who was brought up to it; not like some reprobate who has been scared into piety. I've heard them a few times, too, and I know the difference. "Now, that means a little, and when you put it with the company he keeps, especially Crouch, his chum, that black-looking fellow who was shooting at the target out there this morning, don't you see it grows quite interesting?" "I should think it does. Why, it is perfectly certain that he is a desperate sort of person. I wonder what he has done? It couldn't be the Cleveland fur robbery, I suppose," I said. Howard got up and shook himself and then laughed uproariously. "No, but he might be the Rahway murderer. You'd better lock the door fast and tight at night." (This was a stab at my well-known cowardice.) "And, little mother, if you think you have got hold of a delightful, bloody mystery, for the love of heaven keep still about it. A little talk will set a cyclone going if you're not particular." I resented this caution as quite unnecessary, but Howard laughed and shook his finger at me. I think he is at the age when a young man feels his physical and political superiority over his mother very fully. After he had gone out I sat thinking over his new idea. I had a faint suspicion that Howard was amusing himself at my interest in the matter, and was starting me in pursuit of something that he knew perfectly well beforehand; yet every word that he had said was fastened in my memory, and many little unnoticed things now came up to strengthen my suspicions.