"Bless you, no," Hood replied as they followed a boy with their bags; "nothing so intelligent as that. On the contrary"--he paused at the landing and laid his hand impressively on Deering's arm--"on the contrary, they're looking for _me_!" He went on with a chuckle and a shake of the head, as though the thought of being pursued by detectives gave him the keenest pleasure. When he reached their rooms he sat down and struck his knee sharply and chuckled again. Deering turned frowningly for an explanation of his mirth. "Oh, don't bother about those chaps! I repeat, that they are looking for me, but"--he knit his fingers behind his head and grinned--"they don't _know_ it!" "Don't know you are you!" exclaimed Deering. "You never said a truer word! More than that, they're not likely to! There are things, son, I--Hood, the frankest of mortals--can't tell even you! I, Hood, the inexplicable; Hood, the prince of tramps, the connoisseur in all the arts--even I must have my secrets; but in time, my dear boy, in time you shall know everything! But there's work before us! The long arm of coincidence beckons us. We shall test for ourselves all the claptrap of the highest-priced novelists." Deering walked to the window and stared out at the landscape, then strode toward Hood angrily. "I don't like this!" he wailed despairingly. "You promised to help me find those stolen bonds, and now you're talking like a lunatic again. If I can't find the bonds, I've got to find Ranscomb, and get back that first two hundred thousand I gave him. I can't stand this--detectives waiting for us wherever we stop, and you babbling rot--rot--" Words failed him; he clinched his hands and glared. "Don't bluster, son, or I shall grow peevish," Hood replied tolerantly. "At the present moment I feel like taking a walk under the mystical May stars. The night invites the soul to meditation; the stars may have the answer to all our perplexities. Stop fretting about your bonds and your friend Ranscomb; very likely he's busted, clean broke; that's what usually happens to fellows who take money from their friends and put it into the metals. Possibly he swallowed poison, and went to sleep forever just to escape your wrath. Let us take counsel of the heavens and try to forget your sins. We must still move the way the slipper pointed--northeast. The road bends away from the inn just right for a fresh start. We depart, we skip, we are on our way, my dear boy!" They had walked nearly a mile when Deering announced that he was tired, and refused to go farther. He clambered upon a stone wall at the roadside. On a high ridge some distance away and etched against the stars was a long, low house.