"Where did you see him? When was it? Where was it?" asked Dick rapidly, thinking he had stumbled on a clue.
"I don't know—I can't recollect, but the face—that face seems familiar," and Toots, taking up the photo, gazed earnestly at it.
"That is the picture of the missing son of an old soldier who lives in Hamilton Corners," said Dick. "Captain Handlee asked me to make some inquiries about him. It's queer you should think you recognized it, Toots. Were you ever in the army?"
The man shook his head slowly.
"I don't know," he said. I'm a fine shot though. I ought to be in the army."
Dick felt a new hope. The missing man said he was an expert marksman. But then Dick recalled what he had heard about Toots; that the man had a delusion that he was a sharpshooter, but that he could scarcely hit the outer edge of a big target.
"Can't you recall where you have seen this man? asked Dick earnestly.
Toots slowly shook his head.
"What was his name?" he asked.
"Corporal Bill Handlee."
"No, that name doesn't sound familiar. But I'm sure I've seen him somewhere. I can't think—something seems to stop me here," and the man again passed his hand across his forehead.
"Try," urged Dick.
