. "Here it is," and she hands me a seven and
three-quarters hard boiled lid with his initials punched in the sweat
band.

That move gave 'em something to chew over anyway, and kind of took their
minds off what I'd been askin' about Ellery. For after hearin' about him
I knew I hadn't been mistaken about seein' somebody down by the lodge.
That's right where I makes for.

As I gets to the bottom of the hill I slips through the hedge and walks
on the grass so if there should be anyone at the gate they wouldn't hear
me. And say, that was a reg'lar hunch I'd collected. Standing there in
the moonlight is the youth in the checked cap.

Near as I can make out he's a narrow-chested, loose-jawed young hick of
19 or 20 and costumed a good deal like a village sport. You know--slit
coat pockets, a high turn-up to his trousers, bunion-toed shoes, and a
necktie that must have been designed by a wall-paper artist who'd been
shell-shocked. On his left arm he has a basket partly covered by a
napkin. Also he's just handin' something in through a little window
about a foot above his head.

Course, it don't take any super-brain to guess that there must be
another party inside the lodge. What would Ellery be passin' stuff
through the window for if there wasn't? And anybody inside couldn't very
well get out, for the only door is a heavy, iron-studded affair
padlocked on the outside and the little window is covered with an
ornamental iron grill. Besides, as I edges up closer, I hears talking
going on. It sounds like the inside party is grumblin' over something or
other. His voice sounds hoarse and indignant, but I can't get what it's
all about. When the youth in the checked cap gave him the come-back
though it was clear enough.

"Aw, shut up, you big stiff!" says he. "You're lucky to get cold
chicken and bread and jam. Where do you think I'm goin' to get hot
coffee for you, anyway? Ain't I runnin' a chance as it is, swipin' this
out of the ice-box after the servants leave? It's more'n you deserve,
you crook."

More grumbles from inside.

"Yah, I got the cigars," says the other, "but you don't get 'em until
you pass out them dishes. Think I can stick around here all night? And
remember, one peep to your pals, or to anyone else, and my trusty guards
will start shootin' through the window. Hey? How long? Until we get 'em
all into the net. So you might as well quit your belly-achin' and
confess."

It was a more or less entertainin' dialo