“See here, Uncle Horace,” interrupted Oliver, in a calm, matter-of-fact tone, “I’ll tell you what I will do. I will give you five thousand dollars in cash if you find my father for me. It has cost me twice that amount already—my own money, mind you—but I’ll give you—” “Dead or alive?” demanded Mr. Gooch sternly, accusingly. “Yes, dead or alive. Now, wait a second. I’ve got something more to say to you. My father always said you were the meanest creature that God ever let live, and I used to dispute it once in a while. I claimed that a hyena was worse. Now I know he was right and I was wrong. Go ahead with your investigation. Go as far as you like. You can’t bluff me. I am in this race to stay and I’m going after you tooth and nail. Now I guess we understand each other. I’m going after you because of the way you treated my father and I’m—” “And I’m going after you for the way _you_ treated him,” bawled Mr. Gooch, throwing in the clutch viciously. Then he muttered an execration. “If you’ll give Marmaduke Smith a dime he’ll crank it for you,” said Oliver, turning on his heel. He glanced up at the clock on the bank down the street. “Oh, thunder!” he exclaimed in dismay. “You’ve made me miss the train!” “If you crank that car, Marmaduke,” said Mr. Sikes menacingly, “I’ll boot you all over town.” So Mr. Gooch got out and cranked the car, and drove away to a chorus of undesirable invitations. “Where’s Oliver?” demanded Mr. Sikes, as the car turned the corner. “We got to stick purty close to him from now on, Silas.” “What for, Joe?” “So’s we can be ready to establish an alibi in case anything happens to Horace Gooch. Supposin’ some poor devil he’s made a beggar of takes it into his head to put a bullet into—What say, Marmy?” “Oliver took my wheel and beat it for the depot,” said Marmaduke Smith happily. CHAPTER XVIII JOSEPHINE AND HENRY THE EIGHTH The return of Mrs. Sage after an absence of twenty-three years was an “event” far surpassing in interest anything that had transpired in Rumley since the strange disappearance of old Oliver Baxter.