That word "stripe" caused Fred Ripley to have a disagreeable chill. He remembered that "stripes" are an important part of the design on a convict's suit of state-furnished clothes. "But he needn't think he can prove anything against me," Fred muttered to himself, as he started down the street. "Of course, I know I lost that chisel last night, and Driggs may have found it in his boatyard. But he can't prove that the chisel belongs to me, or to our house. There are lots more chisels just like that one. If Driggs tries to bluff me he'll find that I'm altogether too cool for him!" Nevertheless, it was an anxious young man who walked into the boat builder's office a few minutes later. Hiram Driggs, smiling broadly, held out his hand, which Fred took. "Sorry I wasn't here when you called last night," said Driggs affably. "I don't know what you mean," Fred rejoined promptly. "I didn't call at your house last night." "Oh, no," Driggs replied. "I meant when you called here." "I didn't call here, either." "Ever see this before?" asked Driggs, holding up the chisel. "Never," lied Fred. "That's curious," said Driggs musingly. "Officer Curtis, the man on this beat, found the chisel here, and it was wrapped up in part of this newspaper." Driggs brought forth from one of the drawers of his desk the newspaper in question. "What has that scrap of paper to do with it?" asked Fred, speaking as coolly as he could. "Why," explained Driggs, turning the paper over, "here's the mail sticker on this side, with your father's printed name and address pasted on it just as it came through the post-office." Fred gasped audibly this time. Driggs surveyed his face with a keen, tantalizing gaze. "Mebbe 'twas your father, then, who was in the yard last night, and who refused to answer the policeman's hail," suggested the boat builder. "I'd better go up to his office and show him these things and ask him, I guess." "But I don't believe my father will know anything about it," spoke young Ripley huskily. "Then your father will want to know something about it," Driggs went on. "He's a man of an inquiring turn of mind. Let's run up to his office together and ask him." "No, no, no!" urged Fred, his face growing paler. "Then why were you here last night?" "I wasn't here," protested the boy.