"I had thought of that, Tobias," said the bank president patiently. "Don’t look like it was just a gang of burglars that come in here last night for the first time and happened to hit it lucky." "No. I am convinced they had advice, if not assistance, in turning the trick." "Maybe you got your suspicions of who helped ’em?" said Tobias shrewdly. "If I have I’m not going to tell you, Tobias." "I don’t want you should—nossir!" said the lightkeeper. "I’d just as lief not know. But I am going to show you what I picked up under that winder just now. Compton and Ez Crouch seen me." The bank president sat up straighter. He flashed a glance at the little red book. Then he looked again at Tobias. "What is it?" The lightkeeper brought his hand out of his pocket and displayed the gold penknife. "You picked that up under the window?" "Yes." "Any mark on it? Anything whereby the owner can be identified? Do you know, Tobias, who it belongs to?" "Oh, sugar!" declared Tobias. "It might not have been lost by one of the burglars. Then again——" Thompson took the knife, opened the blade, and turned the little toy over and over on his palm. "Of course," he murmured, "there might be a dozen men wearing things like this on their watch chains——" "Not here in Clinkerport," interposed Tobias. "No. That’s so. But there is no identifying mark." "Look at the chain. Drefful fine links, but awful strong." "It is platinum. An expensive chain. Not likely, after all, to be worn by many." "That kind of narrows suspicion down, doesn’t it?" said Tobias with some eagerness. "It must. A platinum watch chain costs a deal of money, Tobias. There must be an excellent watch at the other end of the chain. No ordinary person would be likely to wear such an ornament. These burglars——" "Maybe they stole it," suggested Tobias. Thompson looked at the red book again. He wagged his bushy head, and sat, tight-lipped and thoughtful. "That is possible," he finally agreed. "But if the knife and the few links of chain can be traced——" "’Tis a clue," Tobias said. "Looks like somebody might be in this job who wasn’t just an ordinary burglar. Heh?" "I’ll allow that, Tobias." "Well, that is all I had to tell you, Mr. Thompson. I reckon you’ll give the knife to the city detectives when they come?" "Naturally. I will put all possible clues into their hands," the bank president rejoined, glancing again at the little red book. "Course, there may be nothing to it. But who else could have lost that knife there without making talk about it—advertised the loss, as ye might say?" "True," agreed Thompson. "Probably it belongs to somebody who is kind of a fancy dresser. No ordinary longshore clam digger would own such a thing. I give it as my opinion that it might have been lost by some feller—whoever he was—that has been hangin’ around the port long enough this summer to l’arn all them burglars wanted to know about the bank, and the watchman, and all. Heh?"