think she was?"

"I guess I didn't really think--I only dreamed," was the old man's
stammering reply. "If you say she's Patsy Jones that's enough for me."

"She says that she is--and that makes it so." Latisan strode on his way.

Rickety Dick lifted his arms, then he lowered them without his "Praise
the Lord!"

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Crowley, shrouded in the evening gloom, tapped on the parlor window the
signal tattoo agreed upon between himself and Miss Elsham. The light in
the parlor went out promptly and she came and replied to Crowley under
the edge of the lifted sash. She had been apprised by her associate of
the advent of Miss Kennard on the scene; Crowley had hastened to slip a
note under her door.

"You saw 'em start for a walk, did you? Well, you saw me follow 'em,
then. Chased 'em to the edge of the falls and hid."

"What sort of talk is she giving him?"

"Talk! I couldn't hear. I don't like water, anyway. I like it less when
it bangs down over rocks and stops me from hearing what I want to hear."

"What does she tell you?"

"She has only shot a few words at me like beans out of an air gun.
Claims she's here on the case."

"Do you believe that?"

"I don't dare to tell her that I don't believe it--considering the way
she stands in with Mern. It may be his afterthought--he's a bird that
flies funny sometimes, you know."

"Leave her to me; I'll dredge her to-morrow."

"That'll be good dope; she'll have to bring in your meals as soon as you
give orders to Brophy."

"They'll have to be snappy orders to make him stop bringing 'em
himself," said Miss Elsham. "The old fool stood around while I was
eating supper and told me how much money he has saved and how lonesome
he is since his wife died. I have told him to send Latisan to me this
evening on a matter of business, no matter how late Latisan comes in.
He's too jealous to give the word, I do believe."

"I can't understand the hang of it--her grabbing him so quick," lamented
Crowley. "It's a devil of a note when we have to take time off the main
job to detect out a mystery right in our own concern! What are you going
to say about her when you write up your report to-night?"

He was referring to the inviolable rule of the Vose-Mern office that a
daily report must be made by each operative.

"Nothing, Buck. Let's tread easy. We may seem to be trying to tell Mern
his business. She's here and he must be perfectly well aware that she's
here. Don'