"Don’t be downhearted, you little vagrant, but tell me all you have found out, not forgetting the smallest thing, as I told you. It is in some trifle that the rogues always give themselves away, the thief-catchers say. I ought to have been a constable, and not a preacher, my boy," he went on; with cheerful unconcern; "but many a good man has made a like mistake. It shows, you see, how little we know what we are good for when young. Come now, commence at the beginning and tell me what you have discovered, and take your time about it, for there is no hurry." Thus encouraged, I told him all I had found out, not omitting anything I could remember, however trifling. "So Miss Constance thinks Rathe is the thief, does she? A bright girl, I’ll wager; but why does she think that?" he asked, when I had concluded. "Because neither of us like him, and because he and Mr. Seymour were the only ones there when the money was sealed up the evening before the robbery." "So they sealed it up, did they? What was that for, I wonder?" "I don’t know, unless to make sure." "Well, it was business-like, anyway; but Miss Constance must have some other reason for disliking Rathe?" "Yes, because he and Uncle Job are rivals." "Rivals! rivals! For what, I’d like to know?" "For Miss Betty’s favor." "What is that you are saying? Pray, who is Miss Betty?" "Miss Betty Singleton, a young lady in Appletop." "How long have they been rivals?" "I don’t know, but before I came here." "Well, this is what I call gossip, Gilbert, and makes me feel as if I were in Boston again. We ought to have a cup of tea and a bit of toast and a cozy fire to enjoy it fully, though. Which of the suitors, pray, does Miss Betty favor—your uncle or the other man?" "Uncle Job, Constance thinks." "I’ll bet she is right, too, if Miss Betty is a girl of sense, and she is or your uncle wouldn’t care for her. So the rivalry has been on for a long time—before you had that scare in Murderer’s Hollow, probably?" "Yes, long before that." "Well, you have a fine ear for gossip, Gilbert, if you are not much of a detective. Let me see now," he went on, "if I have everything straight"; and with that he began to question me afresh about the robbery, and the money, and the shape it was in, and how and where Uncle Job lived, and about his business and love affair, and a thousand other things of which I could see no point whatever. "You have not told me when the trial is to come off," he exclaimed, finally, "or isn’t that decided yet?" "In three days from now." "Whew! but they are speedy! Let me see, the robbery happened eight days ago. That is hardly giving him time to turn around." "That’s what I think, but Mr. Seymour says it’s the way, and that Uncle Job wishes it hurried," I answered.