f common butterflies unless he had some deep object
in view, and you know that, Andy. This so-called professor must be a
fraud, even if he doesn't turn out to be the man we think he is.
Perhaps, he wanting to find out whether Hoskins had discovered that
wonderful gold mine. Well, you needn't grin about it because stranger
things have happened, I guess, now."

Andy ceased laughing and turned to look around the room.

"I wonder--" he began, and then stopped short.

"Now I can finish your sentence for you," said Frank. "You wonder if we
could make any important discovery if we looked around here a bit,
while Sallie is helping her ma do up some fruit jars or something like
that?"

"Perhaps it wouldn't be just the right thing," suggested Andy, in
confusion.

"Under ordinary conditions it certainly wouldn't," his cousin went on to
say; "but when you've got a pretty good idea that you're dealing with a
slippery hobo, actor, past-aviator, and now a bank burglar and cracksman
in general, why that puts a different face on the matter, don't you see,
my boy?"

"All right; let's take a look," said Andy, easily convinced that since
they were really working hand in glove with the police authorities, they
had a perfect right to prowl around in anybody's room, and pick up such
valuable information as could be found afloat.

But after all they found nothing that looked like incriminating
evidence. The fact of the matter was that the professor did not seem to
own any sort of wardrobe whatever, and had nothing belonging to him save
the clothes on his back, the little case of butterflies which Frank
believed he had bought for a dollar over in Cranford at the curio
dealer's shop, and a few bottles holding some strong smelling acids,
which possibly were used to either kill the captured butterflies so they
would not beat their wings out; or else to preserve certain specimens
of bugs he expected to run across in his hunts.

"Nothing doing," said Andy, with considerable of disgust and
disappointment in his voice.

"Come here!" remarked his cousin, softly.

"Hello! don't tell me you've found something?" and Andy crossed the
floor in more or less haste.

He found Frank bending over a table at which there were writing
materials--pen, envelopes, paper and a blotter.

"What's doing? Have you found the gentleman's notebook lying carelessly
around, and which we can peep into, eh, Frank?"

"Not at all," came the reply. "I was only looki