"Oh, no, to suspect is not to accuse, until we have incontrovertible proof. But we'll get it! Lord, what a brain! And, yet, it may be easier to catch a smarty like that than a duller, more plodding mind. You see, he is so brilliant of scheme, so quick of execution, that he may well overreach himself, and tumble into a trap or two I shall set for him." "Doubtless he knows you are here, doesn't he?" "Surely; but that doesn't matter. If things are going as I hope, I'll bag him soon!" "And yet you're not sure he's the murderer?" "No, Miss Clyde, and I'm inclined to think he was not. However, we must proceed with caution, but we can work swiftly, and, I hope, reach the end soon. Matters are coming to a focus." As they drove under the Pellbrook _porte cochère_, a strange-looking figure ran to greet them. "Hello, darkey boy, who are _you_?" sang out Stone, as the blackamoor grinned at them. Iris stared, and then burst out, laughing. "Why, it's Terence!" she cried. "For goodness' sake, Fibsy, what _have_ you been doing?" The boy was quite as black as any chimney sweep--indeed, as any full-blooded negro. He had run up from the cellar at the approach of the motor, and stood grinning at Iris and Stone. "I'm on a trail," he said, "and it's a mighty dark one. "Where will it lead you--to light?" asked Stone, smiling at the earnest, blackened face. "I hope so, oh, Mr. Stone, I hope so! For the trail is somepin' fierce, be-lieve me!" "Well, look out, don't get near Miss Clyde, nor me, either! You're a sight, Fibsy!" "Yessir, I know it," and, without another word, the boy turned and disappeared down the cellar entrance. Iris went into the house, but Stone went down to the cellar to see what Fibsy was doing. He found the boy diligently shoveling coal from one large coal bin to another. Nearby was Sam, quite as black as Fibsy, and the two were a comical sight. Sam was seated on a box, rocking back and forth in an ecstasy of glee, and crooning, "Colole, colole, pinny-pin in colole!" "That's what he says, Mr. Stone," Fibsy defended himself, "so if pinny-pin _is_ in the coal-hole, I'm going to get her out! And if not, then Sam's fooled me again, that's all!" "Terence Maguire! Do you mean to say you're going to hunt for a needle in a haystack--I mean a pin in a coal-hole?" "Just that, sir. I'm onto friend Boobikins' curves, now, and I fully believe that his present dope is the answer! Anyway, I'm taking no chances." "But, Fibs, it's impossible----" "Sure it is, that's why I'm doing it. You run away and play, Mr. Stone, and let me work out this end. Didn't you tell me to find the pin? Well, I'm obeyin' orders." Fibsy turned to his task again, and Stone watched him for a few minutes. The boy laboriously took up the coal in a small shovel, looked it over with sharpest scrutiny and then dumped it into the other bin. By good luck the bins adjoined and the task was one of patience and perseverance rather than of difficulty.