The eyes stared, immovable. The chin did not quiver. Reaching for the lantern, Gansett Jim, now nine of Indian to one of negro, turned away from them to the pathway. “No,” he said stolidly. As the flicker of radiance danced and disappeared in the forest Sedgwick spoke. “Well, do you consider that we’ve made a friend?” “No,” answered Chester Kent; “but we’ve done what’s as good. We’ve quashed an enmity.” CHAPTER XI—HEDGEROW HOUSE Answers to the telegrams Chester Kent had despatched arrived in the form of night letters, bringing information regarding the Blairs of Hedgerow House: not sufficient information to satisfy the seeker, however. Therefore, having digested their contents at breakfast, the scientist cast about him to supply the deficiency. The feet of hope led him to the shop of Elder Ira Dennett. Besides being an able plumber and tinker, Elder Dennett performed, by vocation, the pleasurable duties of unprinted journalism. That is to say, he was the semiofficial town gossip. As Professor Kent was a conspicuous figure in the choicest titbit the Elder had acquired in stock for many years, and as the Elder had been unable to come to speech with him since the inquest (Kent had achieved some skilful dodging), there was joy in the plumber-tinker’s heart over the visit. Unhappily, it appeared that Kent was there strictly on business. He did not wish to talk of the mystery of Lonesome Cove. He wished his acetylene lamp fixed. At once, if Elder Dennett pleased. Glum was the face of the Elder as he examined the lamp, which needed very little attention. It lightened when his visitor observed: “I’ve been thinking a little of getting an electric car, to run about here in. There was a neat little one in town yesterday.” “Old Blair’s,” replied Dennett. “I seen you in it. Known Mr. Blair long?” “He offered me a lift into town, very kindly. He was a stranger to me,” said Kent truthfully, and with intent to deceive. “Who did you say he was?” “Gosh sakes! Don’t you know who Aleck Blair is?” “Blair? Blair?” said Kent innocently. “Is he the author of Blair’s _Studies of Neuropterae_?” Elder Dennett snorted. “He’s a millionaire, that’s what he is! Ain’t you read about him in the Fabric Trust investigations?” “Oh, that Blair! Yes, I believe I have.”