The man did not wait for further exchange of pleasantries. He took the direction the tinker indicated, and the tinker watched him go with a suppressed chuckle. "History positively stutters sometimes. Now if that property-man knew what he was talking about the company will be safe out of Arden before a runabout could make the country club and back." But the tinker's mirth was of short duration. With a shout of derision, he slapped the pocket of his trousers viciously. "What a confounded fool I am! Why in the name of reason didn't I give them to him and stop this sleuth business before it really gets her into trouble? Of all the idiotic--senseless--" and, leaning on the pilgrim staff, he slowly hobbled in the same direction he had given the man. * * * * * One last piece of news concerning Billy Burgeman came to Patsy before she left Arden that afternoon. Gregory Jessup was at the station to see her off, and he took her aside for the few minutes before the train arrived. "I tried to get Billy to join me--knew it would do him good to meet you; but he wouldn't budge. I rather think he's still a trifle sore on girls. Nothing personal, you understand?" Patsy certainly did--far better than his friend knew. In her heart she was trying her best to be interested and grateful to the Rich Man's Son for his unconscious part in her happiness. Had it not been for him there would have been no quest, no road; and without the road there would have been no tinker; and without the tinker, no happiness. It was none the less hard to be interested, however, now that her mind had given over the lonely occupation of contemplating memories for that most magical of all mental crafts--future-building. She jerked up her attention sharply as Gregory Jessup began speaking again. "Billy told me just before I came down why he had gone away; and I wanted to tell you. I don't know how much you know about the old man's reputation, but he was credited with being the hardest master with his men that you could find either side of the water. In the beginning he made his money by screwing down the wages and unscrewing the labor--and no sentiment. That was his slogan. Whether he kept it up from habit or pure cussedness I can't tell, but that's the real reason Billy would never go into his father's business--he couldn't stand his meanness. The old man's secretary forged a check for ten thousand; Billy caught him and cashed it himself--to save the man. He shouldered the guilt so his father wouldn't suspect the man and hound him." "I know," said Patsy, forgetting that she was supposed to know nothing. "But why in the name of all the saints did the secretary want to forge a check?"