“Yep. Got him hid in the Hazels down on the Point. Gonta watch all night. Taney’s all right fer that. He’s on the job. Nothin’ won’t get by him. We figger this would be the night fer another lot to land there if they had any sorta greement about it. There ain’t no other spot this side o’ the lights, an’ he’s bound to connect along this coast somewheres. He ain’t goin’ fur away, you needn’t think. He’s got his good buyers all around this part. No sir, he thinks he’s got us buffaloed all right with that there two hundred bucks, an’ now he’s figgerin’ to work it alone, the young devil!” “Been to the cem’try, Bill?” “Yep. Went this a.m. fore dawn. Jest light ’nough t’see t’spade. Opened her all up. Nothin’ there but a bed of broken glass. Slick job! Cleaned the whole thing out. Must think we’re takin’ nourishment out of a bottle yet, we can’t see through that. Say, boys, whaddaya say we take a little trip through the ole buryin’ ground up by the state road? He’s bound to get another location fer his business, an’ that’s good an’ lonely. I found out he’s got a sister an’ she’s got some kids. Be a good idee to buddy up to ’em, Tyke. You’re good at that business. They live down to Meadow Brook on Orchard Street, third house from the corner, opposite to the garage.” Tyke narrowed his eyes and nodded. The next day Tyke happened along Orchard Street as Lib Knox was starting to school. “Yer uncle at home?” She eyed him shrewdly. “Whaddaya wanta know for?” she demanded, cold-eyed. “Just wantta see him on a message.” “Well, he ain’t in,” she said loftily. “You better leave the message.” She started down the street with her armful of books, and Dorothea, approaching from the corner, joined her. Tyke followed them and lounged along beside them. “Say, kid,” he said, bringing out the greasy envelope, “donno but I will. I c’n confide in you. I see you’re a pretty good sort o’ kid. Looka here!” But Lib Knox was not the easily flattered sort. She eyed him with suspicion, and looked coldly at the bit of paper he held out to her. When she caught sight of the writing her eyes narrowed and she gave him a quick, veiled glance beneath their fringes. Dorothea, behind her, as ever curious, stretched her neck to see the writing also. “Know whose name that is?” The man asked the question with alluring mystery in his tone, as if he knew the name himself and had some wonderful information to impart concerning it. But Lib was a smart girl. “Don’t look like any name at all to me,” she said contemptuously. “Looks like just a piece of writing. Where’d you get it?” “That I ain’t tellin’ till I find out what you know about it. If you can tell me the name I’ll tell you something your uncle would like real well to know. Most like he’ll give you a box of candy if you tell him.” Lib tossed her head angrily.