“Yes, sir, I do,” was the reply. “I usually don’t, but this morning a fool couple got under my window there at the back of the house and whispered, and talked, and quarreled, until I was ready to get up and fight.” “You could not hear what they were saying?” “I caught a word only now and then. I was too mad to listen quietly.” “That was a queer place for a conference—under a sleeping-room window,” suggested the detective. “Oh, they probably thought the house unoccupied during the night. It doesn’t look much like a residence, now, does it?” The man cocked his head to one side and regarded the little structure, built of plain boards nailed on perpendicularly and battened, with a critical eye. “But the people who usually come to this station know your habits, don’t they?” asked Nick. “I should think they ought to,” was the reply. “I have been here long enough.” “Then these men must have been strangers?” “Oh, I have no doubt of that.” “You say they quarreled?” “Not until a third man came up.” “So there was a third man?” “Didn’t I say three at first?” “No, you said two.” “Well, there were two at first, and then a third man came, and they got into a mix-up over something.” “Did they fight?” “Only with their mouths.” “About what?” “About putting something in a trunk.” Nick saw that the country merchant did not know how to relate what had taken place with reference to the leading points, so he was obliged to humor him and ask many questions. “So they had a trunk?” he asked. “Didn’t I say they had a trunk?” “You did not. Was the trunk delivered there in a wagon?” “No. A man, the third man, brought it on his shoulder.” “Did they open it?” “Of course. Didn’t I say they quarreled about putting something in it?” “Did they put something in it?” “Yes, after a lot of talking.” “What did they say?” “Two men said it was safer to carry the package, and the third man said they knew what his orders were.” “Did you hear any names mentioned?” “Just one.” “What was that name?” “Hartley.” “Ah!” It was with difficulty that Nick concealed his joy. Hartley was the name of a noted diamond dealer in New York, and Hartley was said by the police to furnish money for enterprises of a shady nature! “What was said concerning Hartley?” asked Nick, in a moment. “I only heard his name mentioned once.” “You heard nothing said regarding the contents of the package they put in the trunk?” asked the detective. “I heard one of the men say that they would be fools to give up so much without getting their money down.” “Ah!” So Hartley had already arranged for the diamonds to be delivered to him. The third man was Hartley’s agent. “Where did this third man come from?” asked Nick. “I don’t know. He must have come in from some of the burgs where the morning train does not stop, and carried his trunk with him.” “Was it a large trunk?” “No. A small one.” “What did they finally do with it?”