“Will,” said Tom, presently, “that place was in my mind almost from the very first. I wasn’t arguing to find it, but to prove to myself that I was right. Now, the whole thing amounts to this—if we drag the quarry, and find the clothes there, I’ve made a good guess.” “You have, indeed—a good enough guess to get your neck out of the halter. I’ll say nothing more; only this—I didn’t think that you had so much in you!” CHAPTER XX. AND now I find the story of Tom Granger’s adventures drawing rapidly to a close. I have sometimes wondered whether all happenings, such as are usually allotted to a man’s life, were not crowded into this one year and a half, for since that time it has been even and uneventful, excepting as to such small things as occur in our quiet Quaker neighborhood. But, these adventures were not to close without one more thing happening that made a stir; not only in Eastcaster, but throughout the whole country. No doubt, if you were to pick up a newspaper of the fall and winter of that year, no matter where that paper was printed, you would see some mention made of all these things. However, I have nothing to do with that; I have only to tell my own story, or the balance of it as quickly as possible, for it has grown to a huge length beneath my hands as I have worked upon it, so much, so that I fear few will have patience to read it through to the end. I think that it was about noon of the next day that a note was brought to Tom. It was in Will’s handwriting, and was only of one line. This is what it said: “Dragged the quarry this morning. Clothes found. “W. W. G.”