lph. Squire Paget may deny the
whole statement made by Martin Thomas, and then you will have some trouble
to prove anything against him."

"I know that."

"The best thing you can do is to call on your mother first----"

"I intend to do that. I am much worried since I know she has not received
my letter."

"She may have news to tell. Who knows but what the squire has approached
her about this property question already."

"I shall look to you for advice before I make an important movement," said
Ralph.

It was growing dark, and soon it became time to go to bed on the train.
Horace Kelsey had procured berths, and both retired. But to tell the truth,
Ralph did not sleep a wink all night.

He could not help but think of all that had happened, and speculate as to
what the future held in store. Never once did he dream of the many
surprises so close at hand.

Ralph was up before any one else among the passengers. It was a good hour
before Horace Kelsey followed.

"Anxious, I suppose," smiled the insurance agent. "Well, I don't blame
you."

"There is so much at stake," rejoined Ralph. "I feel as if a fuse had been
lighted, and I was just waiting for something to explode."

"And something will explode ere long, I imagine," laughed Horace Kelsey.

It was a little after eight o'clock when the train rolled into
Chambersburgh and they alighted. Both knew the place fairly well, and
started at once for the steamboat landing.

Just as they turned a corner of the street they came face to face with
three police officers who were escorting two men and a boy to the
station-house. The men were Dock Brady and another. The boy was Percy
Paget.

"Look!" cried Ralph. "What can this mean?"

"I don't know them," returned Horace Kelsey.

"Why, that is Percy Paget!"

"Is it possible?"

"And one of those men is Dock Brady, the man who is supposed to have robbed
the Westville post office."

"Really! That is interesting!"

"I'll bet a fortune they are the three that did that job!" burst out Ralph,
excitedly. "There were two men and a boy, and this crowd is the same."

"Ask one of the officers," suggested Horace Kelsey. "Or, stop, I will do
so."

He stepped up to the little crowd, which had come to a halt at a corner,
and tapped one of the policemen on the arm.

"I wish to ask you a few private questions about your prisoners," he said,
in a low tone.

"Ask him," returned the officer; and he pointed to a quiet-looking man